A Dash of Inspiration

by DirigibleQuixote

Rating: everyone
Tags: Twilight Sparkle, Slice of Life, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Rainbow Dash, Sad, Romance, Original Character, Scootaloo
Length: 36379

When forced to to community service, Rainbow Dash learns an important lesson about role models.

When Rainbow Dash is charged with a massive amount of property damage that totally isn't her fault, she is required to do community service hours to repay her debt to society.

Little does she know, inspiration can be found in the oddest places.

Published 2011-11-26 06:50:33 UTC
Last updated 2013-04-18 15:32:12 UTC

Chapter 1

Rainbow Dash sighed impatiently, pawing at the ground with a foreleg. She was standing on a large field of short grass which overlooked Ponyville, waiting. The pony for whom she waited was only a few minutes late, but Dash’s patience had already begun to wear thin. The day was pleasant enough: warm, sunny, not a cloud in the sky, but the pegasus’s mood was already soured.

I hope the rest of these community service hours aren’t as boring as this, she thought to herself. It wasn’t her fault that Ponyville’s windows weren’t built to withstand Sonic Rainbooms. If the ponies living there took it so seriously, they should build stronger windows, not punish people for being strong. She was Rainbow Dash, The Fastest Filly Flyer in all of Equestria! She had just been flying fast. If a few windows – okay, a few dozen windows – and some other stuff had been damaged, that was hardly her fault!

The judge at the hearing hadn’t seemed to see things Dash’s way, but had presented her with a choice. Pay a monstrous fine for all the damages she’d caused, or do community service to make it back. Dash hadn’t really seen it as a choice. She mostly lived on cheap takeout, and being a weather pony paid surprisingly little. When she’d been told that she could give flying lessons for her community service, Dash had jumped at the opportunity, feeling that flying could hardly count as work.

A commotion on the horizon brought Dash out of her recollection. Dash narrowed her eyes, trying to see what it was. A dust cloud was just visible on the dirt path, but the blue pegasus couldn’t tell what was leading it. Lifting herself a few metres into the air, Rainbow Dash once again trained her eyes. There was too much dust to be certain, but she could just make out an orange blur at the head of the cloud. Rainbow Dash did not know specifically whom she was to teach – she had been given only a time and a location.
Hmm. Do I know anypony who’s oran-
No.

No, it couldn’t be. They wouldn’t do that.

Rainbow Dash’s wings slowed, lowering herself down to the ground. The cloud was now close enough for her to see clearly, quickly making its way up the hill. Sure enough, the pony creating it was orange. She was also riding a scooter. Dash lowered her head and groaned, mentally preparing herself for the prospect of spending the next few months with-

“Hi, Rainbow Dash!” exclaimed Scootaloo, coming to a stop in front of the blue pegasus and jumping off the scooter. “Isn’t this so cool? I sign up for flying lessons, and my flying instructor is the Rainbow Dash – the Fastest Filly Flyer in all of Equestria!” Scootaloo could barely contain herself, hopping up and down in anticipation. Her saddlebags bounced with her.

Rainbow Dash’s reaction was somewhat more subdued.

“Er, um, hey, Scootaloo. Yeah, it’s gonna be really fun, I’m sure. So, is there anything-”

“Um, actually,” Scootaloo interjected, rummaging around in her saddlebags, “I’m supposed to give you this before we start anything.” She found her prize and dropped a scroll with the seal of the Equestrian courts onto the ground at Dash’s feet. The orange pegasus then turned back to her scooter and busied herself removing her helmet and saddlebags.

Dash flicked the scroll open with a hoof and skimmed it, confusion clear on her face. The judge hadn’t mentioned anything about a scroll, or special instructions. As Dash read through the words, a connection between this information and the monotone words of the court secretary formed. She had said something about Dash’s community service hours “being held to the standards of the Equestrian educational system.” Dash hadn’t thought much about it at the time, as she had been overjoyed at the prospect of paying her “debt to society” through flight, but now it started to make sense.

Only it didn’t.

“Scootaloo,” Dash said. “It says here that I’m to instruct you in the skills covered by a first-year flight school course.”

“Yeah, so?” Scootaloo set down her saddlebags and turned back to Dash.

“So, why would I do that if you’re already in flight school? The court must’ve made a mistake or something.”

Scootaloo’s demeanour dampened at this. She started to say something, but broke Dash’s gaze halfway through and trailed off into silence.

“Sorry, I didn’t hear you,” said Dash. “Come again?”

“I . . . I haven’t . . .” Scootaloo mumbled. Dash leaned forward and cocked her head.

“One more time?”

“I’mnotinflightschool!” Scootaloo exclaimed. There followed an awkward silence, which Rainbow Dash eventually broke.

“Um, why not?”

“Well, see, my parents and I used to live in Fillydelphia, but we had to move here because of my dad’s job. When we moved, it sort of messed up the schedule for enrolment in flight school, so I have to wait for this year to finish before I can apply to flight school next year.”

“So, you’ll be a year behind when you start flight school,” said Dash, slowly realizing the responsibility upon her shoulders. Scootaloo brightened considerably.

“I would be, but my parents said that if I got this training and passed an entrance test, the school would count it as a substitute for my first year, so I’d enter along with everypony else!” Scootaloo was back to her usual, cheery self. “Isn’t it just great?”
Yeah, great. Ugh, trust the government to find a way of turning flying into work.
“Yeah, Scootaloo,” said Rainbow Dash with enthusiasm she did not feel. “It’s great. Now, who wants to learn how to fly?”

“Ooh! Ooh! I do!”

The session passed enjoyably enough, though without actual flight on either pony’s part. Instead, Dash instructed Scootaloo in a regimen of stretches and exercises to help acclimate the body to the stresses of flight. Scootaloo was disappointed that she would not be performing any Sonic Rainbooms on her first day, but she did not let this faze her and paid rapt attention to all of Dash’s instructions.

After they had said their goodbyes, Dash leapt into the sky. Being grounded for such a length of time had built up a good deal of stress, and she knew of no better way to relieve stress than a soaring session amongst the clouds. She tried to concentrate on smashing through cloud banks and other aerobatic stunts, but her thoughts soon turned to more serious matters.

Gliding in a holding pattern, Dash was forced to come to terms with her predicament. She was no teacher, that much was certain. The stretches she had taught Scootaloo were about the only things she remembered from her time at flight school. She had excelled at the act of flight itself, but Dash had never paid much attention when they were discussing the aerodynamics and theory of flight in the classroom.

It would be so much simpler if this whole thing could be undone, somepony more qualified found to teach Scootaloo. Maybe it wasn’t too late to switch to manual labour. Dash had heard the spice mines were rather nice this time of year.

No, no, she thought to herself, sighing. She had been sighing far too much today. I can’t just run off. If I do, I would just be passing the problem on to another pony. I need to find a solution to this – there must be something that’ll work!
Held to the standards of the Equestrian educational system. Who do they think they are? I’m Rainbow Dash, saver of lives, performer of Sonic Rainbooms, giver of cutie marks! Why do I need their approval to teach somepony how to fly, of all things?
Dash landed heavily on a cloud and sat down in thought, irritated. She needed to find some workable answer to this whole thing by tomorrow, as the only breaks she had from the flying sessions were the weekends. Suddenly, an idea struck her. Twilight would have something to say about all this! She was always studying a hundred things, so why not flight?

Dash dove off the cloud and quickly flew to Ponyville’s library, stopping just in front of the door. She force herself to calm down – there would be some way around this. Then she knocked, and the door opened after a moment to reveal Spike.

“Oh, hi Rainbow Dash!” Spike greeted her, but his expression immediately grew suspicious. “You’re not skipping your community service hours, are you?”

“Relax, Spike, I already did those for today,” said Dash, flicking a foreleg dismissively. Far back in her mind, though, she felt a little surprised. Was she that easy to mistrust? “I’m the element of loyalty, remember? I’d never cop out of something like this.”

“Oh, er, yeah,” said Spike. “So, what brings you to our fine building?”

“I was hoping to speak to Twilight, actually. Is she here?”

“She is. Come on in and I’ll get her.” With this, Spike turned away from his visitor and jogged to an upper floor of the library. Dash stepped inside, taking in the room lazily. She’d never much cared for libraries, or books in general. Reading had always seemed too slow for her, not enough action or thrill. There was a paperback novel lying on a table near the door. With nothing better to do, Dash examined it.

The cover depicted a pony (black coat, white hair) in armour facing the reader with a sword in one hoof and a large, black cat by his side. Behind him was what could only be a cityscape, though it looked unlike any architecture Dash had ever seen. The book was called Homeland and had been written by one R. A. Salvacolte. Dash had never heard of this pony, but she hardly kept up to speed with authors. She was intrigued, though, so she flipped the book over and read the back.

By the end of the paragraph, intrigue had become desire. It was one of the few times in her life Dash could remember wanting to read something. Elves and Dwarves and wars and fighting – had books always been about stuff this . . . interesting? The only things Dash remembered seeing in books were aerodynamics equations and weather algorithms.
It’s apparently part of a series. I wonder if Twilight has the rest of them-
“Rainbow Dash! Good to see you!” called Twilight from the stairs, breaking the blue pegasus’s train of thought. Spike had apparently remained upstairs. “What did you need to see me about?”

Dash quickly stepped away from the book and shifted her attention to the matter at hand. She disliked asking for help for any reason, but this needed to be done.

“I was wondering if you had any books on flight, actually.”

Twilight giggled, but quickly sobered.

“. . . You’re serious.”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?” Again, Dash was annoyed at how easily everyone seemed to doubt her. Twilight stayed silent for a moment, thinking about how best to answer the question. At length:

“You’re, well, you,” she said. “The Fastest Filly Flyer in all of Equestria. I honestly think I’ve seen you flying one way or another more than walking or standing – why would you ever need to read about flying?”
She has a point.
“Well, um, it’s not for me,” Dash said, looking around awkwardly. “It’s for the community service thing I have to do.” Twilight’s expression soured.

“The community service you have to do to make up for a Sonic Rainboom in the middle of town?” the unicorn said flatly. Dash grinned sheepishly.

“Yeah, that.”

Rolling her eyes, Twilight walked over to the Flight & Aviation section and helped her friend pick out several books on flight. They ranged from athletic instruction manuals to aerodynamic theory encyclopaedias, the latter mostly suggested by Twilight. Dash wasn’t entirely sure she would end up using all of them, but she wasn’t about to argue with Twilight over books.

When they had brought the stack over to the main desk for checkout, Twilight started the process of stamping the inside of each book cover with a due date and recording the same date in the library’s ledger. She had done this so many times it barely registered as magic anymore, which left most of her concentration available. Glancing at the ledger, Twilight noticed something.

“Come to think of it, you’re the second pegasus to come in asking for books about flight,” she said, peering closer to the name written there. “Scootaloo beat you to it.”

“Really?” Dash asked, honestly curious. It hadn’t occurred to her that her student might have had the same idea.

“Yeah,” replied Twilight, the memory coming back to her. “She came in a little while ago, asking almost exactly the
same thing as you. In fact, if she’d had her way, she would’ve been taking home more books than you are.”

“I’m teaching her how to fly for my community service. Must’ve really wanted to do this whole flying thing properly,” said Dash, watching registered books float into a pair of library-stamped saddlebags. She had not brought her own.

“Actually, I don’t think that was the reason.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, she mentioned how she wanted to learn all she could about flying so that she wouldn’t disappoint you,” Twilight stated matter-of-factly. At this, there was a slight sensation of discomfort in the back of Dash’s mind – it was upsetting, but she couldn’t put a feeling to it. Twilight continued talking: “She really seemed taken. Her eyes lit up whenever she mentioned you and the whole prospect of being taught by the Fastest Filly Flyer in all of Equestria seemed divine to her.”

“That kid . . .” Rainbow Dash sighed heavily. Twilight raised her eyebrows.

“What’s the matter? I thought you liked Scootaloo.” Dash backpedalled, clarifying what she meant.

“Yeah, I do, it’s just that, well,” Dash scratched the back of her neck awkwardly with a foreleg, “I’ll put it this way. Today was a four-hour session, with a break for lunch. During that time, she called me The Fastest Filly Flier in all of Equestria seventeen times.” Twilight chuckled at this.

“Do my ears deceive me? Is Rainbow Dash becoming irritated with praise?”

“That was one compliment that I bothered to count,” continued Dash, putting her hooves on the desk to emphasize her point. Her tone was now the monotone of someone presenting an extremely factual argument to which they had an extremely personal connection. “I didn’t mention how often she told stories of stuff that I did, or referred to me as ‘awesome’ or ‘sooo coool’, or thanked me for being her teacher.”

“That’s a bad thing? I thought you liked adoring fans.”

“Adoring fans are one thing. Spending a few months with someone who worships you is another.” Rainbow Dash sighed. “And the fact that I’m being ordered to do this by the government doesn’t help matters. Anyway, thanks for the books. I have a feeling I’m going to need them.” The pegasus swung the saddlebags over her sides and started to turn around. She hadn’t completed an about-face when Twilight put her hooves on Dash’s.

“Rainbow Dash, listen,” Twilight said. Dash looked into Twilight’s eyes, and saw emotion there. “I’m sure that this whole thing will turn out alright. I’ve gotten to know you well since I moved here, and I know how hard you work when you’re doing something you enjoy, even if somepony else is forcing you to do it. If you put your mind to something, there’s nothing you won’t be able to do – I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”

Rainbow Dash was still for a moment, surprised at the show of emotion from the normally introverted Twilight. As Dash’s mind processed what Twilight had said, she realized that the purple unicorn’s words carried a kind of comfort with them. It was nice to know that Twilight believed in her abilities, even if everypony else (and herself, come to think of it) was less than confident.

Dash cleared her throat.

“Um, yeah, well, I should be going,” she said, trotting towards the door. “Thanks for the books and everythinggottagoseeyalaterbye!” With that, Dash sped off into the sky. After a short stop at the nearest pizza parlour (Dash had underestimated how hungry teaching made her when she had packed her lunch that morning), the blue pegasus flew up to her house.

Twilight stood at the desk, hooves still on it. She watched as the library door swung slowly shut, slightly squealing on its hinges. Twilight released a breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding as it clicked shut.

I hope Rainbow Dash feels all right about this whole affair. Scootaloo could hardly ask for a better teacher, and it would be awful to have Dash beat herself up over teaching somepony how to fly, of all things.

Twilight lightly pushed herself off of the desk and walked over to the section that she and Dash had investigated. It had become noticeably more dishevelled from their efforts, with several books which had ultimately proven to be unrelated to Dash’s needs lying haphazardly on the floor. Twilight started levitating them up and back into their respective spots on the shelves. She found herself still thinking about Dash, despite her preoccupation. It was always nice to be able to help a friend in need, of course, but it seemed to be more than that.

Maybe it was because of her friend’s stature – Dash was, by all counts, an Equestrian hero. The others of their little gang were as well, but few were so brazen about it. Applejack was humble, Fluttershy was timid, and Pinkie was often too busy being . . . Pinkie to think about fame and the like. Twilight was aware of how a good number of ponies thought about her, but she didn’t really enjoy the spotlight – Rarity was the only one who might have approached Dash’s familiarity with stardom.

Twilight had now finished with the books. She moved to a nearby cushion and flopped down upon it, then rolled onto her back and stretched out her spine over the cushion’s arch. After a momentary thought about how she really ought to get out of the library more, Twilight’s thoughts returned to Ponyville’s chief aerobat.
Rainbow is always so confident about everything, whether she’s capable of doing it or not. It’s really odd to see her as concerned about this as she seems to be. Maybe she’s . . .
No, that was a silly idea. Dash wasn’t scared about this. Dash wasn’t scared about anything.

Evening was setting in as Dash landed on the cloud lawn surrounding her home. Ignoring the rainbow waterfalls that flanked the entrance and would have inspired awe in many other ponies, Dash simply entered, feeling tired after a thoroughly taxing day. She placed the pizza box onto the stack of empty pizza boxes that partially adorned the living room’s coffee table. The other half of it was occupied by empty pop bottles and the odd beer can, which Dash had long since stopped noticing as clutter.

Dash tossed the saddlebags onto the couch, sat down and opened the pizza box. The smell of melted cheese, oats and dandelions instantly awakened the full scope of her appetite and she attacked the disc of food in front of her.

After finishing it, Dash sat back and patted her belly, the residual warmth of the pizza flowing pleasantly into her body. Now that she had no other concerns, the books seemed almost manageable. Sighing, Dash reached for one of the books, not caring which she started with. When she looked at it, she was surprised to see the white-haired pony from the library paperback returning her gaze.
What the-? I didn’t check this one out . . .
Dash opened the book, causing a small piece of paper to fall to the floor. She picked up the paper and read it.

Rainbow Dash,

I saw you looking at this when I was at the top of the stairs. You didn’t mention it, but I figured that if a book can interest you, then it’s worth reading.

-Your friend, Twilight Sparkle

Dash was momentarily embarrassed, but the feeling quickly passed – after all, Twilight wouldn’t say anything about Dash’s sudden interest in books. Even if she did, Dash had a feeling that this particular book would be conveniently left out.
Man, Twilight’s a really good friend. It makes sense, I suppose, having a goddess for a mentor. Maybe those colts from flight camp would’ve turned out differently if they’d had somepony like Twilight to look up to.
“I’ll do anything you want, Rainbow Dash!”

Dash recoiled as if struck at the sound of Scootaloo’s voice. Looking frantically around, she realized that she’d imagined it. Dash breathed a sigh of relief, then forced herself to calm down and process the information. Why had she imagined Scootaloo’s voice? This thought about role models couldn’t be the trigger, could it?

Belatedly, Dash registered what she’d seen on her frantic sweep of the room. Looking around, Dash noticed a Wonderbolts poster stuck to the wall. It had been there so long, she’d stopped noticing it. The posted depicted a pegasus rearing back dramatically, streaks of black and white behind it like the trail the Wonderbolts were famous for. The pony was intentionally genderless, with facial features obscured by thunderheads and lightning bolts. Beneath the pony, there was text. YOU COULD BE THE NEXT WONDERBOLT it read, the block capitals emphasizing the point.

Dad! Dad! Wasn’t that SO AWESOME? They did loop-de-loops and barrel rolls and figure eights and they even flew upside down! I didn’t know you could DO that!

Yes, Dashie. I was there, you know. Good to hear you enjoyed it.

I’m SO gonna be a Wonderbolt when I grow up! They’re SO COOL!

Yes, Dashie, as you’ve said. Hundreds of times by now, no doubt.

It’s true!

I never said it wasn’t, Dashie. It’s great that you have a dream. You know, there’s actually something I wanted to give you. It was going to wait until we got home, but-

Ooh! Ooh! Whatisitwhatisitwhatisit-

Here. These posters were covering the walls, so I figured I’d take one instead of letting them get thrown out.

Ohmygosh! Ohmygosh! Thank you so much, Dad! You’re the best!

Don’t mention it, Dashie. I’m just glad you’re happy.

. . . Dad?

Yes?

Thanks for taking me to the show and everything. Today was great.

I bet I know what’d make it even better.

What?

Oh, only a ponyback ride back to our house.

REALLY?

Of course. Hop on.

Thank you so much, Dad!

Anything for my number-one girl.

. . . Dad?

Yes, Dashie?

. . . I love you.

I love you too.

Rainbow Dash looked around at the layer of pizza boxes, cans and crumbs covering her furniture and floor. Then she looked down at the note and book in her hooves. Then she thought of the colts from summer flight camp, how it had taken a Sonic Rainboom to make them even think about changing.

Rainbow Dash didn’t read any books that night. Instead, she cleaned.

The next day, Dash stood in the same field she had the day before. This time, though, she stood proudly, relishing the challenge of the coming months. Scootaloo arrived, announced by the dust cloud, as she had the day before. Dash greeted the filly as she hopped off her scooter and undid her helmet.

“Alright, Scootaloo. Let’s get you into flight school.”

Chapter 2

Rainbow Dash and Scootaloo swooped down onto a cloud, both thoroughly tired after a hard session of flying. They caught their breath for a moment, enjoying the cool breeze through their manes. The day was a beautiful one, with a constant wind at their height which both cooled down the pegasi and provided a steady force to be counteracted. Scootaloo, initially awestruck at learning how to fly with Rainbow Dash, of all ponies, had managed to curb her enthusiasm enough to pay attention to the lessons. The flight lessons had been difficult, but the orange pegasus was determined to make her mentor proud and had attacked each challenge with gusto.

Rainbow Dash had just instructed her student in the fine art of flying upside down, an impressive feat for somepony who had just learned to fly a scant month ago. Since Dash’s fateful, property-damaging Sonic Rainboom in the middle of Ponyville, the pair had been spending almost all their time together. Dash’s community service hours dictated that this was necessity on weekdays, but even on weekends and past the normal sessions, the two had seemed almost inseparable.

“Rainbow Dash, that was I” exclaimed Scootaloo between pants for breath, indefatigable as always. “I thought flying upside down was just something the Wonderbolts did!”

“Well, I Ithe Fastest Filly Flier in all of Equestria,” Dash spoke lazily, stretching out her forelegs and feigning nonchalance. “Gotta have a few tricks up my sleeve.”

“I just wish I could’ve flown better,” Scootaloo said, sitting down and sighing. Dash instantly broke her veil of disinterest and edged closer to the orange pegasus, putting a foreleg on her shoulder.

“Hey, whoa, don’t you go feeling bad about it,” the blue pegasus said reassuringly. “Scootaloo, that was insane how good you were at flying upside down.”

“. . . really?”

“Of course! You were landlocked just a month ago, and now you’re trying to fly upside down? That’s incredible!”

“But I crashed, like, fifty times!”

“Okay, well. Firstly, you only crashed thirteen times.”

“Because that’s so much better,” Scootaloo said, rolling her eyes.

“And secondly,” Dash continued, accenting her words with a poke to Scootaloo’s shoulder, “it’s good that you crashed that much.”

Scootaloo screwed up her face in confusion.

“Wait, what?”

“Look at it this way,” said Dash, removing her foreleg from around Scootaloo’s shoulders and gesturing with it. “You failed, so you think that’s bad, right?”

Scootaloo nodded.

“But, before you failed, what did you do?”

“. . . Overbalance?”

“You had to start, you silly filly,” Dash concluded, tousling the orange pegasus’s hair. “So what if you didn’t do so well on your first try? You tried in the first place, and that’s the important thing.”

Scootaloo mulled this over for a moment, hunched forward in thought. There were several hmm sounds, hallmarks of a mind at work. Presently, she reached a conclusion.

“But I was terrible!”

“And the next session, you’ll be a little less terrible. The session after that, a little less. The session after that, a little less. Stuff this advanced isn’t easy, and it doesn’t come overnight.”

“Oh,” Scootaloo said in comprehension, but her mood didn’t lighten. She understood on an intellectual level the point that Dash was making, but it didn’t make her feel much better. Dash sensed this, and made one final argument against it.

“Scootaloo, I was not this good when I tried flying like that.” At this, Scootaloo lifted her head and looked Dash in the eye.

“Really?”

“Are you kidding me? I was terrible! Flying every which way, crashing through clouds – I threw out my wings because I tried to do a loop-de-loop. Don’t feel bad about not doing well: you’re leaps and bounds ahead of where you should be according to the school system.” Hearing this account of imperfection was oddly relieving for Scootaloo. If Rainbow Dash hadn’t done so well on her first try, then Scootaloo supposed it was okay that she hadn’t either.

“Anyway, we should be going. We’re already on overtime and you wouldn’t want to keep your parents waiting.”

“Awwwww . . .”

The pegasi parted ways over Ponyville. As she had a month before, Rainbow Dash flew to the town library. Her focus, was markedly different than it had been on that visit. Before, Dash had been frantically trying to find something, anything she could teach Scootaloo that the Equestrian educational system would accept. Now, she glided down to the front door, reviewing her plan of action. She knocked before entering, saddlebags rustling slightly against her sides.

As Dash opened the door, she was greeted by the musty, papery smell of books and binding leather that she had come to know and enjoy over the past month. Seeing neither Spike nor Twilight, Dash took the opportunity to peruse the array of books in the Fantasy & Sci-Fi section. The community service hours had been a blessing in more ways than the time spent with Scootaloo. Thanks to the sentence, Dash had inadvertently discovered that she quite liked reading, when it was about dark elves and monsters and that sort of thing. Her business here didn’t involve books, but she found herself reading the titles to pass the time anyway.

Man, if only the textbooks at flight school had been this cool.

“Rainbow Dash!” interrupted Twilight Sparkle’s voice, “If you had told me a month ago that you’d be a library regular, I wouldn’t have believed you!”

Dash jumped at the sound of Twilight’s voice – perhaps she was a bit more nervous than she wanted to believe. Looking over her shoulder, Dash saw that Twilight was descending the staircase at the back of the library.

“I’m full of surprises like that,” said Dash. She reflected upon how comfortable she was with being . . . a bookworm? No, that wasn’t the right word. With being well-read. There. “Anyway, Twilight, can you spare a moment? I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Can it wait for a moment? There’s this series here I think you’ll enjoy.” Before, Dash could answer, Twilight levitated a book out of the shelves. The book was predominantly beige and the cover depicted a large . . . was that a worm? Dash had seen earthworms before, but they bore nothing but a passing resemblance to this one. She was pretty sure earthworms didn’t have mouths full of teeth, for instance. The book was apparently called Dune and written by one Flank Herbert.

Rainbow Dash continued the line of conversation, partly because she was legitimately curious and partly because she felt a tightness in her stomach relating to what she had come to the library about.

It’s perfectly understandable. Stars above, stop worrying!

“Alright, what’s it about?”

Twilight told her. Rainbow Dash was stunned into silence for a moment.

“It seems more . . . political than the stuff I’ve been reading so far.”

“It is. I figured you’d be looking for something that’s a bit more of a challenge.”

You can use this. Get talking to her, then ask her.

“Sure,” said Dash with a smile. “I’ll be able to fit it in some time.”

“Glad I can help. It’s always nice to have more readers around. I assume you’ll just be checking out the first few, just in case?”

Dash nodded, and Twilight levitated the books over to the main desk. As she started the process of checking out the books, Dash swung one of her saddlebags onto the countertop. It was stuffed near to bursting with paperback novels, nearly all of which belonged to The Legend of Drizzt. Twilight shot the pegasus a raised eyebrow before magicking the books out and into the return bin.

“Dash, there must be at least a thousand pages between those books. You read that in a week?”

“They’re good books,” said Rainbow Dash defensively. “Besides, you just said how great it is that I’ve discovered them.”

Twilight nodded in acceptance.

“It is. Sorry if I’m giving you mixed messages about that. It’s just . . .” her voice trailed off, and she grinned sheepishly.

“It’s just what?”

“Nothing, nothing,” Twilight said, looking down and blushing ever so slightly. She met Dash’s eyes and sighed at the look of curiosity reflected in them. The unicorn set down the last of the Dune books and turned her full attention to the conversation. “It’s just . . . when I first met you, you struck me as a really . . .” Twilight struggled for the right word.

“Dumb jock?” finished Dash, her tone good-natured.

“Yeah,” said Twilight after a pause. “Either you were blasting around at barely-contained speeds or you were napping in the clouds. Now, you’re either in here looking for more books to devour – seriously how did you read all that so quickly – or you’re out doing good deeds and being a positive role model.”

She’s right. Man, when was the last time I went flying for myself?

“Ah, I see,” said Dash, grinning. “You want me to go out and start a bar fight or seven.”

They shared a laugh. It felt good.

“You know, you’re actually right, Twilight. There’s a big storm scheduled over the weekend – I should be able to get in some flying time if I steer clear of it.”

“Oh.” At this, Twilight’s face fell. It lasted only for a split second, but Dash noticed. “I mean, um, that’s good! Yes, good. Hope you enjoy yourself. Ha-ha.”

Now, it was Dash’s turn to give her counterpart a raised eyebrow.

“Twilight, is something the matter?”

“I guess you’ll be too busy to hang out at the library, then,” Twilight said. Dash saw an opportunity and seized it.

“Funny you should mention hanging out, actually,” the pegasus said with a twinge of anxiety in her voice.

“Oh?” asked Twilight, cocking her head to one side. “What do you mean?”

“Well, um . . .” Dash struggled to find words.

Curse you, brain! Why are you locking up on me now of all times?!

“I . . . it . . . you and . . . so . . . do you wanna get dinner sometime?” Dash finally spoke. Twilight just looked stunned. She considered Dash a friend, sure, but not that kind of friend. Dash saw Twilight’s features and realized with horror how her offer had sounded.

“No!” the pegasus cried, leaning forward over the checkout desk and bracing herself with her forelegs. “No, that- . . . I didn’t- . . . it wasn’t- . . . I mean as a gift!”

Twilight had leaned back to keep a distance from Dash, but she relaxed ever so slightly, and her expression shifted to one of curiosity.

“As a gift?”

She didn’t run off. Oh, thank the Gods.

“Yeah! See, you’ve been a great help over the past month with Scootaloo and everything, and I just wanted to return the favour.” Dash gestured sweepingly with a foreleg at the wealth of paper and synthetic leather that surrounded her. “Plus, y’know, the whole discovery of literature thing. So, um . . . My treat? Please?” Dash ended her plea with her hooves together, elbows resting on the library desk.

“Oh,” said Twilight in understanding. “Did you have a specific place or anything in mind?” Dash’s stomach emptied of tension upon hearing Twilight’s words, and the pegasus breathed a sigh of relief.

“Your choice, actually,” said Dash. “I only really know a couple of places, and I don’t imagine that Filly McNeighsty’s would be your kind of restaurant.”

Twilight had relaxed completely now, sitting comfortably on her haunches. She lifted a hoof to her chin and looked to the ceiling in thought. She wasn’t a frequenter of restaurants herself, but she read the reviews in the newspaper from time to time.

“Well, there is that new place on Mane Street. The Garden, I think it’s called. Have you heard of it?”

“I think so – the name is familiar, at least.”

“I’ve heard good things about that place. Good food, nice music . . . alright, sure!” Twilight smiled. “When’s a good time for you? Next weekend?”

“That should be fine,” said Dash, relaxing enough to return to a normal stand. “Say, 8:30?”

“That’d be great! Thanks for the offer, Dash. I must admit, it’ll be nice to be out of the library related to something that doesn’t involve mortal danger or emotional turmoil.”

“Ah, it’s the least I can do,” Dash said, leaning on the desk with one elbow and glancing nonchalantly at her hoof. She projected an air of calm, despite the adrenaline rush moments earlier. “Anyway, I should be going – don’t want to be caught in the storm and all.”

The two said their goodbyes, and Dash trotted out the door. The pegasus gathered herself for a moment, and then sprang into the air. She felt as light as a feather, now that that business with Twilight was past the awkward part.

Dash swept up through the clouds and landed on the porch of her house. She entered, what Twilight had said about change staying with her as she looked around the main room. It was clean, the cloudstuff furniture clustered around a cloudstuff coffee table on one side. On the other, a doorway led to the kitchen and the non-cloudstuff appliances therein. A new cloudstuff bookshelf stood against one wall, with a couple of hardcovers standing in it, and a stairway led up to a second floor, which consisted of a balcony, bedroom and bathroom. Dash trotted over to the cluster of furniture and swung her saddlebags onto the table.

They landed next to a white box wrapped with red ribbon.

Oh, horseapples!

Scootaloo alighted outside her house. Ever since Rainbow Dash had shown her the proper technique, the orange pegasus had been flying everywhere every chance she got. She frowned slightly. Her saddlebags were weighted down with books and homework from the flight school correspondence course (Dash’s teaching had been rather light on aeronautic theory), but that wasn’t the reason for her shift in mood. She had been spending so much time with Rainbow Dash lately that an entire weekend without the blue pegasus’s company seemed unbearable.

And with that huge storm scheduled, Scootaloo wouldn’t even have an opportunity to fly around herself. The orange pegasus sighed, walking up to her door. Opening it and walking inside, she headed for the kitchen to get herself a snack before getting started on her homework. She noticed a note on the kitchen table.

Scootaloo,

It seems this weekend’s storm has gotten a little bit out of hand, so the weather pegasi have been looking for help to get it under control. Your mother and I have been “volunteered.”

We’ll probably be home late, so remember to get to your homework and don’t stay up past your bedtime.

-Love, Dad

Scootaloo’s mood instantly picked up and she started hopping around the kitchen in joy. An entire evening, all to herself! She could do whatever she wanted! She could eat nothing but junk food, she could watch bad movies, she could stay up late! The world was her oyster!

. . . though, she did have a lot of homework to do. And she could finish it all this evening, if she really tried . . .

Scootaloo stopped hopping. She sighed.

Aw man, it sucks being responsible.

Scootaloo was pacing around her room. She had meant to get started on her homework, but instead found herself thinking about her cutie mark – or rather, her lack thereof. Scootaloo had been so sure that her cutie mark would have something to do with flight. When she had first taken off, after a solid day of effort and bruises, she could practically feel the mark appearing.

But nothing had happened.

She had been crushed. If Rainbow Dash hadn’t been there, Scootaloo was sure she would have cried. Thinking back, it was remarkable how much Rainbow Dash had comforted and supported Scootaloo when she’d been having difficulty with . . . well, anything. Aerobatic tricks, personal issues, bullies at school – the list went on.

I should say thanks to Rainbow Dash. She’s helped me a lot.

Shaking her head to clear out the unpleasant thoughts, Scootaloo sat down on the floor pillow in front of her desk and forced herself to start reading.

What matters is doing well, not letting anypony down. What matters is getting into flight school, whether I’m cut out to be a cab driver, or a pilot, or a mail pegasus, or a-

Outside, far off in the distance, thunder rumbled.

-or a weather pegasus.

Scootaloo calmly walked over to her window and looked out.

Rain pattered against the glass in the soothing way that only rain can. The wind wailed through the trees, but didn’t seem to be that strong. She could see a large head of thunderclouds off in the distance, a solid wall of black. There was the brief flash of lightning, then the dull rumble of a thunderclap a few seconds later. Presumably, this cloudbank was under control, as there were no flitting shapes of pegasi around it.

Presumably, it would be unmonitored.

Presumably, it would be a good spot to try one’s hoof at weather manipulation, if one were so inclined.

Scootaloo opened her window.

Rainbow Dash berated herself for forgetting the gift. Inside the white box was a pair of Dash’s old goggles from her time at flight school. Dash had meant to give them to Scootaloo, to show the orange filly how proud she was. Instead, she had been in such a hurry to get out the door that morning, the blue pegasus had completely forgotten about them. Today was the closest session the pegasi had had to a full month, and Dash had wanted to commemorate it. The goggles wouldn’t have the same effect if they were several days late.

A thunderclap distracted Dash from her self-anger. She sped over to the nearest window and looked out. Rain whipped past her face. The sky was already dark with overcast clouds, but the main storm wouldn’t arrive for some time.

I could make it to Scootaloo’s house and back before the storm hits. She would appreciate the goggles even more if she’s cooped up over the weekend.

Her mind made up, Dash turned away from the window. She threw the gift box into a saddlebag, drew the strap up tight and bolted out the door.

She made good time, and was at Scootaloo’s house within minutes. Dash knocked at the door. When there came no response, she knocked again, more insistently. The rain and wind had picked up. Though by no means too treacherous for her to navigate, Dash didn’t relish the prospect of flying through a storm any worse than this.

Still no answer. Something was off about this whole thing.

Well, I’ll just drop off the box and leave a note. It’s not a personal presentation, but it’ll have to do.

Dash opened the door slowly and poked her head in. All the lights were off.

“Scootaloo?” she called. “Mr & Mrs Nimbus?” Still nothing. Forcing herself not to think about it, Dash slipped inside the house. She would drop off the present, nothing more. Nothing was wrong; Scootaloo was probably just asleep early. Yeah, that was it. Despite the reassurances, Dash’s heart beat a little more quickly.

Rainbow Dash, did you ever have any training to be a weather pegasus?

Of course I did. Everypony did at flight school. Why, are you considering being one?

No. She’s gone to bed early. I’ll write a note explaining the gift and then I’ll go back to my house and sleep this off. To that effect, Dash shrugged off her saddlebags. She didn’t have a pencil or pen on her, so she wandered around looking for one. She happened to wander into the kitchen.

She happened to look at the kitchen table.

She rushed back out of the kitchen and into the main room, spine ramrod straight and straining her ears.

“Okay, Scootaloo, you can come out now. Ha-ha, you got me.”

Nothing.

Is it hard being a weather pegasus?

Sure, but it’s AWESOME! Making clouds, directing blizzards and being in charge of the seasons is every bit as cool as it sounds.

Coooooooooool!

And some pegasi can even manipulate lightning. I’ve never done it myself, but I hear it’s INSANE. That much electricity . . . oh man, what it must feel like.

But I’ve seen pegasi buck lightning out of clouds plenty of times.

Just bucking a small bolt out of a cloud is foal’s play. Any pegasus can do that. Really manipulating lightning – creating it, directing it – takes a lot of skill.

Dash’s breathing was ragged now and her heart beat like a tribal drum. She looked around frantically for something, anything to placate her fears. She ran from room to room, any attempt at civility forgotten. Swinging her head around, Dash saw a light emanating from the top of the stairs. She practically threw herself up them. There were a few doors, one leading to a bathroom, the other to a large bed. Light slipped from underneath the third, which was closed. Dash threw open the door to what could only be Scootaloo’s room.

Rainbow Dash, what made you become a weather pegasus?

I enjoy the work, simple as that. Everypony who’s a pegasus can do it, so the pay isn’t great, but it’s enough to get by and it’s really fun.

Do you think I could be one?

Scootaloo, I’m positive that you can be whatever you put your mind to. If you’re interested, I’m sure Twilight has some books on weather in the library, and they’ll do a better job of explaining it than me.

The room was empty.

The window was open, clattering against its frame.

Dash streaked out the window, flying as fast as she could towards the oncoming storm.

Scootaloo had nearly reached the storm clouds. She had initially been shocked by how little warmth there was in the air, but she supposed that was normal, considering the circumstances. The wind had picked up dramatically, but the orange pegasus managed to climb level with the main bulk of the clouds.

Finally reaching her desired height, Scootaloo paused for a moment to take stock. Her wings were sore from exertion, her heart was racing and she was panting from the effort of flight.

No time for hesitation. You can do this.

Scootaloo dove forward and into the cloud bank, worming her way down through it. Her world was nothing but black cloudstuff for what seemed like a long time, but she finally broke through into space.

It was a large sphere of empty space within the cloud, walled in by whirling cloudstuff and the occasional flicker of electricity. The book from Twilight’s library had called this space the “storm engine,” and all thunderclouds apparently had one. This was where the cloud’s electricity gathered before being released as lightning. It was also where a weather pegasus could direct a cloud’s lightning, if she was talented enough.

The storm engine was dark, but not pitch black. Scootaloo flew out into the centre of it, holding her forelegs out above her head. She focused all of her will into the cloud surrounding her, demanding that lightning form. Nothing happened at first, so Scootaloo redoubled her efforts.

Then, she felt it. A slow, crawling sensation that worked its way around the walls of the storm engine. Its presence was reserved, but its power was unmistakable: lightning. Scootaloo shivered, and not from the cold or wind. She felt it more clearly now, felt it split and collect above and below her. The flickers of electricity that rimmed the engine were more frequent now, and almost all of them were happening above or below Scootaloo. There was a pressure building, and the pegasus could sense it begging for release.

Scootaloo grinned, preparing to release the pent-up energy in a dramatic flash. She focused it, forced it into even smaller segments above her head and below her hooves. Scootaloo could feel the raw, elemental power of a lightning bolt just waiting, wanting to be let loose.

Not yet. Not yet. Just a bit more . . .

The pressure was now staggering, and Scootaloo could hear a low whistle coming from somewhere, increasing in pitch. The storm engine was now as bright as day, brighter even, so that Scootaloo had to close her eyes and focus on the power of the electricity.

Now.

She willed the lightning to be, and looked up to gaze upon her work.

With a sudden BOOM louder than anything Scootaloo had ever heard, the top of the cloud blew open and a blue-tipped rainbow streaked in. Scootaloo saw just enough to make out an iris of colours far off behind the figure racing towards her before she was hit by it. Scootaloo’s breath was knocked out of her and she could only watch as events played out.

Scootaloo was thrown through another layer of black cloudstuff, presumably the bottom of the storm engine. She was dimly aware of the warmth of another pegasus beside her. After that, Scootaloo saw what was really happening.

The lightning from the storm engine, craving release, followed her in a crashing tidal wave of electricity. It wound itself into the rainbow trail that was following Scootaloo. No, wait, the trail wasn’t following her; it was following whatever was holding her. Scootaloo’s mind produced the word rainbow, but she was too transfixed by the sight behind her to process it.

The lightning, having been fed by the magical energy of the Sonic Rainboom, had grown in size and speed, and was now composed of every colour of the rainbow. It was now matching the pegasi for speed. As Scootaloo watched, a bolt arced off and struck a nearby tree. The branches of the tree exploded, the leaves vapourized and the main trunk caught on fire, which was bright silver. The lightning behind her actually gained ground. Scootaloo would have screamed, but her lungs were having enough difficulty inhaling the necessary air to breath.

Suddenly, Scootaloo was thrown clear of the other pegasus’s embrace. In the split second before she hit the ground, she managed to keep the figure in her vision.

Rainbow Dash turned around and killed her momentum as much as possible, sending up skids of rainbow where her hooves were. She swung to face the hellish vortex of colour and electricity just as it descended upon her.

There was a release of energy the likes of which Scootaloo had never before seen as the multi-hued lightning poured itself into Rainbow Dash’s small figure. The surrounding area was lit brighter than the sun itself.

Rainbow Dash screamed.

Scootaloo fell to the ground, hard cobblestone underneath her. As she did so, the energy stopped, leaving her ears ringing. Scootaloo raised her head. She saw the limp figure of Rainbow Dash fall to the ground with the thump of bone on rock. For a moment, she was too horrified to even move.

The rain, having been stopped by the force of the blast, started again and Scootaloo came back to her senses.

“Rainbow Dash!” she cried, galloping over to her mentor’s figure. It was very, very still.

“Rainbow Dash!” she shouted, grabbing the older pegasus’s shoulders.

“RAINBOW DASH!” she screamed, her throat raw.

oh gods oh gods oh gods oh gods oh gods oh gods oh gods oh gods oh gods oh gods

No, calm down.

shes dead shes dead shes dead shes dead shes dead shes dead shes dead shes dead

Stop it.

what do i do what do i do what do i do what do i do what do i do what do i do

Calm down. Hospital. They’ll help her.

where where where where where where where where where where where where

Pick her up. Get going.

Good. On your back. Keep walking.

so cold so cold so cold so cold so cold so cold so cold so cold so cold so cold so cold

No time to be cold. Keep walking.

sleep sleep sleep sleep sleep sleep sleep sleep sleep sleep sleep sleep sleep sleep sleep

No time to be tired. Keep walking.

i cant i cant i cant i cant i cant i cant i cant i cant i cant i cant i cant i cant i cant i cant

You can. Keep walking.

voices

light

sleep

Rainbow Dash awoke gradually. Her body was in pain, and she didn’t want to start managing it again. She slowly opened one eye, then the other, her surroundings becoming less blurry. She could perceive sounds: the regular beep of a machine, rhythmic breathing from somewhere she couldn’t see, a sharp intake of breath. She looked to her left.

Twilight Sparkle was there, her eyes red and puffy with the memory of tears.

“Gods, you’re awake,” she said quietly.

Dash lay on her back, her wings stretched out flat. She was on a metal table which had been lightly padded on top and was slightly warm with her own body heat. Machines surrounded her, and she could feel bandages on most of her skin.

“. . . what . . . what . . .” she tried to speak, her voice gravel and protesting every syllable.

“Shh, shh, don’t talk,” said Twilight, moving closer. “You were through a lot.”

Dash remembered. The storm. The pain.

Scootaloo.

“. . . S . . . S . . .” she tried again.

“Scootaloo’s fine. Look.” Twilight pointed a hoof at the young pegasus, who was curled up on a floor pillow, sound asleep. Upon her flank was a picture of a bright red cross with speed lines trailing behind it.

“There’s a huge crater in the town square. The doctors said she dragged you in, sopping wet and muttering to herself. They said you’ll recover, Dash, but if you had gotten here any later, then, you . . . you . . .” Twilight’s voice cracked and fresh tears streamed down her face. “Oh, gods above I was so worried . . .”

Sobbing quietly, Twilight leaned forward and slipped her forelegs around Dash in a hug. There was pain, but Dash ignored it. The pegasus forced her foreleg to return the gesture, holding her friend close as Twilight’s tears ran their course. They stayed that way a while.

Eventually, Twilight returned to her normal self. The rest of their group of friends had arrived, along with Scootaloo’s father and what seemed to be half the town.

“Dash?”

A grunt.

“I’m going to go talk to the others now, okay? I’ll just be outside . . .”

Another grunt, an imperceptible nod. Dash closed her eyes and slept to the pitter-patter of rain on the roof.

Twilight stood up shakily, then composed herself and walked out into the hallway.

Chapter 3

“Bet this isn’t where you thought we’d be having our big date, huh?” said Rainbow Dash, her voice gravelly. Her voice had yet to recover from her incident.

She was seated at a long, utilitarian table opposite Twilight Sparkle in the cafeteria of Ponyville General Hospital. The fluorescent lights above cast a pall of grey light over everything in the room, which somehow managed to make the hospital food even less appealing. Dash and Twilight each had a plastic tray with several coloured blobs of vegetable matter set on it. The ponies were not alone in the room, but they sat isolated at a corner table away from the counter and the other ponies spread out around the tables. The room was quiet, except for the soft murmurs that are used to speak in hospitals and the occasional clip-clop of hooves on the tile floor.

A week had passed since Dash had borne the fury of a lightning storm and a Sonic Rainboom. The doctors had been surprised at how fast she had recovered. Dash was still bandaged in many places and wore casts that kept her wings at full mast, but she had done her best to put on a happy exterior.

“Dash, I would hardly call these ‘dates’,” said Twilight. “Besides, didn’t the doctors say you were supposed to rest?” Dash snorted and flicked a foreleg in dismissal. She instantly regretted the gesture, clutching at her ribs and inhaling through clenched teeth. Twilight gasped and started to reach across the table. Dash shook her head, putting both front hooves on the table for balance and letting her head hang. After a moment, she looked up with a weary grin.

“Well, somepony has to, right? And as for the doctors, none of them has dealt with Rainboom lightning before. Their opinions can only be so accurate.” Twilight chewed on her lip in concern before responding.

“Dash, does it hurt? Even to move?”

Dash looked blankly at her friend before shifting her expression to a toothy smile.

“Nah, not really. It’s just sudden movements that set things off. I’m supposed to take it slow whenever I do move.” Dash broke Twilight’s gaze and looked down at the vegetable blobs in front of her. She sniffed, but they had no smell. “Besides, Twilight, what would I do instead of moving around or walking? Lie around in bed watching soap operas? I can’t put any stress on my wings yet, so it’s either that or read, and I can only look at so much text on a page before I start going cross-eyed.”

Twilight’s brow furrowed in worry.

“Dash, I know that it’s a chore, but please: you have to let yourself recover.” Dash snorted and looked away sullenly.

“Please, Dash. I worry about you.” Dash looked back at Twilight, who had leaned forward over the table. Through the fluorescent light, Twilight looked pale and fragile. Dash could see that she was blinking back tears. The pegasus’s expression instantly softened.

“Look, Twilight, if it means that much to you, sure.” Dash’s voice was earnest. The two looked into each other’s eyes for a while, taking a simple happiness in it. Dash was first to break the look.

“I suppose I am feeling kind of tired,” she said. “Walk me to my room?” Twilight nodded, levitating on her saddlebags.

Their walk was a slow and quiet one, as Dash methodically put one hoof in front of the other. The pegasus was focused on the ground for much of the walk, only lifting her head when the two came to an intersection or a corner. Dash’s wings, forced to spread by the casts, occupied almost half the hallway, and twice she and Twilight were forced into single file in order to let a pony with a cart pass. Twilight saw how small Dash looked under the sterile lighting of the hospital, and was saddened by it. This was not the brave, brash filly she had known, not the seasoned veteran acting as a mentor. This was a sad, tired pony, and neither adjective fit the Rainbow Dash that Twilight knew. Twilight wanted to move closer, to press herself against the warm comfort of the pegasus’s body and know that everything was going to be okay, but she was kept away by Dash’s wings.

They reached Dash’s room. There was a window on the opposite wall, which had a small bed near it. There were a couple of floor pillows on the bed’s closest side. There was a bedside table with a pitcher of water and a couple of glasses on it. Across from the bed, an inexpensive television rested on its own table.

“Well, this is me,” said Dash, turning to face Twilight and offering a small smile.

“I brought you some books.” Twilight levitated out a few paperback novels from her saddlebags and placed them on the bedside table. “I didn’t really have much to go on, so I kind of had to pick from intuition. I hope you like them.” She giggled nervously.

“. . . Twilight, if I’m going to rest and recuperate for you, I want you to do something for me, okay?”

“Oh. Uh, fair enough, I suppose.” Dash walked over to Twilight so that they were standing almost nose-to-nose. Twilight shivered a bit at the proximity, but focused on what Dash was saying.

“Have fun.”

Twilight’s expression turned to one of confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“Twilight, it’s been a week since I- since the accident. I’ve only been up for a few days, and you’ve been in here for hours on every one.” Twilight looked away, smiling awkwardly.

“I- I want to make sure you’re recovering.”

“The nurses told me that you didn’t leave the room the entire time I was comatose. They had to force you to eat and drink.”

Twilight’s face fell at this. She stuttered out a few syllables and tried to look Dash in the eye, but was interrupted by the pegasus’s hoof on her face. It came back tipped purple.

“Twilight, is this makeup? Have you been covering bags under your eyes?” Dash asked. She intended the questions as honestly concerned, but the timbre of her voice made them seem angry.

“I . . . You’d worry. . .” Twilight’s voice cracked when she spoke, and her eyes were shiny with the added weight of tears. Seeing what she had done, Dash instantly moved forward and embraced Twilight with a foreleg, apologizing softly. Twilight returned the hug with both of hers. Behind her, Dash’s face contorted with pain as Twilight’s hoof clipped one of her wing casts and sent lances of pain shooting through her spine and wing. The pegasus bit down on her lip to keep from crying out and continued with the embrace. After Twilight had stopped shuddering (and Dash had mastered her own shakes), the two ponies drew apart.

“Twilight, when was the last time you had a good night’s sleep?” Rainbow Dash did not wait for an answer, continuing. “I don’t want you running yourself ragged because you’re worried about me. I’ve had worse than this – I will make it through, but it’ll be difficult if you’re in here fretting about me the entire time. Please, just go out and enjoy yourself.”

Twilight was silent for a moment, then nodded. The two said their goodbyes, and the unicorn left.

After Twilight’s hoofsteps had receded into silence, Rainbow Dash cringed and exhaled. She tried not to put pressure on any part of her body, lest the dull, omnipresent ache grow into something she couldn’t ignore.
Good thing I’m not the element of honesty. Twilight has enough on her mind worrying about my recovery. Wouldn’t be good to tell her about the pain. She wouldn’t understand that it’s minor.
There was a knock from the door. Dash looked over to see a Royal Guardsman standing in the doorway. He was everything she remembered the Guards as being – white-coated, armoured in gold, built like the kind of pony capable of punching out a manticore. The one deviation from the Guards that Dash had seen were the saddlebags he wore with the emblem of the Equestrian courts stamped on them.

“Rainbow Dash, of Ponyville?”

Twilight worried to herself as she walked in the midmorning sun. It had only been minutes since she had left the hospital, and her thoughts were fixated upon Rainbow Dash.
Is she eating enough? Is she enjoying the books I got her? Are the staff treating her well? She’s a hero, after all, they can’t just lump her in with all the other-
Twilight stopped and squeezed her eyes shut. She tried to clear her head, but her thoughts were a jumble of worries and concerns. She clenched her teeth and hunched up. Questions about the hospital’s treatments flew through her head like a swarm of bees, rebounding off the inside of her mind, their buzzing echoing and amplifying.

Twilight made a noise of frustration, anger and sorrow and took off at a full gallop. She didn’t know where she was running, just that she had to run. Some forgotten pony instinct, rendered obsolete by laws and good behaviour, took hold and guided her through the streets. The buildings seemed like a labyrinth of masonry and wood, hemming her in everywhere she went. Her heart pounded, and she dodged around startled ponies, only narrowly avoiding accident.

Time passed, and Twilight found her head clearing. She slowed down and took stock of her surroundings. She was surrounded by trees in a dense forest, walking on a hard dirt trail. The trees were showing the first signs of autumn, with a few orange leaves here and there among the otherwise green canopy. Twilight realized with a start that she was in Whitetail Wood.
Did I really run all this way? I’m certainly out of breath enough, but still . . .
Twilight knew that part of the trail that wound through Whitetail wood curved around near Sweet Apple Acres, so getting back into Ponyville would be easy enough. As the unicorn walked along the path, she realized something.

Her head was clear. The crisp forest air was a welcome coolness in her lungs – the air in Ponyville was laced with the undertones of ponies, work, and the occasional flower garden. Out here, Twilight realized, few ponies must take the path – there was nothing but the pleasant, metallic taste of air mixed with the calming half-scent of trees.

Twilight looked up at the sun, which was just past its zenith. She realized that she had been out for several hours. This fact didn’t bother her. She had no duties at the library, aside from personal ones. Twilight looked down as she recalled the appearance of her study: books about Rainbooms and lightning had lain strewn around a writing desk covered in drawings, notes and crumpled scraps of paper when she had last left it. There was no reason for them to have changed positions, as Twilight had forbidden Spike from entering the room, even to clean.
“Spike, this is my private room! You are not to enter it!”

“Spike! Where’s that book on Sonic Rainbooms?!”

“I don’t need to sleep! I have reading to do!”
Twilight realized with a pang that Spike had probably been affected by Rainbow Dash’s near- . . . by Rainbow Dash’s incident as much as the unicorn had. Literally every day since the . . . incident, Twilight had been gone from the library for hours at a time, mostly visiting Dash. Spike had been pulling double duty both running the library and carrying out Twilight’s increasingly sleep-deprived demands for food at all hours of the night. Twilight’s posture sunk even lower with shame, now that she thought about the consequences of her actions.
I need to apologize to Spike for everything. He’s been a saint through all this.
Twilight returned her posture to normal and started trotting along the path. She didn’t want to delay the apology – Spike deserved it.

When Twilight did finally stagger back to the library, legs aching from exertion, evening had set in and was almost beginning to evolve into night.
Never again. Never again will I sprint onto a marathon trail and then run the marathon. By the goddesses, how did AJ and Dash manage to keep pace at the Running of the Leaves last year?
Twilight entered and shut the door quietly, just then realizing that there were no lights on. All was quiet. There was enough moonlight streaming in through the windows to see by, but much of the main room was gilded with shadow. What the moon did light was a messy space, with books occupying almost every horizontal surface. Some even lay open with their spines up.

“Spike?”

A purple-scaled, green-spined head poked up from over several stacks of books. It blinked tiredly before speaking.

“Who is- Oh! I, uh, that is, um,” Spike stuttered, looking around in panic. “Twilight! Hi!”

“Ah, Spike, there you are. Just the dragon I wanted to see.” Twilight walked over, carefully stepping around books as she did.

“I . . . I am?” Spike’s voice was a note away from terror.

“Yes. I wanted to talk to you about something.” Twilight felt sad. She hadn’t realized that the mere sight of her was enough to cause such fear.

“Y-y-you did?” Spike’s voice had now firmly hit the ‘terror’ register.

“Yes.” Twilight sighed. “Spike . . . I’m sorry.”

Spike cringed away. He had expected many things – being pelted with books, Twilight yelling at him, an insane request for freshly-picked pears – but an apology had not been among them. Twilight continued.

“I’m sorry for the way I’ve been treating you since Dash was put into the hospital. I . . . You were very supportive of me through a tough time, and I responded with hostility. Instead of berating you for not performing exactly as I would have liked, I should have been thanking you for your help in running the library and keeping me fed. I’m so sorry. Can you forgive me?”

Spike was silent for a long moment. He returned to a normal stance, then reached up and hugged Twilight around her neck.

“Aw, Twilight, of course I forgive you.” Twilight sighed, returning the gesture. “You were going through a lot. I understand that. I’ve had my fair share of difficult times too, and you were always there for me. I was just returning the favour.”

“But, Spike, it’s not that simple.” Twilight’s tone was pleading. “I treated you like garbage – I yelled at you, I . . . I threw things at you, I left you to take care of the entire library-”

“Twilight, you don’t have to tell me twice. Let’s not dwell on what happened. I’m just glad to have the real you back in charge.”

Twilight smiled and wiped a single tear from her eye.

“Thanks, Spike.” Spike disengaged himself from the hug.

“Thank you, Twilight. Now, would you mind terribly if we went up to sleep? All this mushy emotional stuff has made me kinda sleepy, and I’d like to have an actual bed.” Twilight giggled.

“That’s the best idea I’ve heard all day.”

The two of them walked up the stairs to Twilight’s room. For the first time in a week, Spike slept in his little basket at the foot of Twilight’s bed.

Rainbow Dash read the documents for a fifth time.

They couldn’t be right. They just couldn’t be. Who would do that? Why?

The words had long since lost meaning, now appearing as nothing more than scribbles on a page. Dash forced herself to concentrate on them – maybe they had changed, maybe the whole thing was a trick by her subconscious. As she read, her heart sank with the knowledge that it wasn’t.
. . . formal complaint lodged . . . reckless endangerment . . . no longer require your service . . . transferred . . . less stressful position . . . final decision . . .
Dash buried her face in the hospital bed and wept, great heaving sobs that wracked her entire frame. The pegasus took out her anger on the mattress, pounding her front hooves down upon it again and again and again. She didn’t care about the pain her bones sent her, she didn’t care that she wasn’t supposed to exert herself, she didn’t care that any injuries would likely hurt her chances of getting the job back. Her thoughts were an incoherent mess of grief and rage.

After the pain grew too great to bear, Dash stopped hitting the bed and pulled her head up from it, leaving an impression slightly damp with tears and mucus. Her breathing was ragged, and punctuated with sniffs and near-sobs. She had to clench her teeth to keep from screaming out.
They can’t do that! They just can’t! I was teaching her, I was her mentor! You . . . you . . . you bureaucrats can’t just replace somepony’s role model like that! IT JUST DOESN’T WORK! IT’S NOT FAIR!
“Um, Miss Dash?”

Dash looked up at the door. Part of her wanted it to be the guard, come back to apologize for the mix-up. Part of her wanted it to be Twilight, for a shoulder to cry on. Part of her wanted it to be something she could punch.

Instead of any of these, the figure at the door was Nurse Redheart. She looked concerned.

“Is everything alright? I heard yelling, something about something not being fair.”

Dash realized that she must have screamed her last few thoughts with her lungs and mind. Some civilized section of her brain said that she ought to be apologetic, that hospitals were supposed to be quiet. The more primal, angry side of her (which was quickly growing in influence) said that she ought to start screaming obscenities at this nurse, this intruder. In the end, Dash compromised.

“Yeah, everything’s peachy,” Dash sighed heavily, lowering her head. Her already gravelly voice was not helped by the recent outpouring of emotion. If Redheart noticed anything amiss about Dash’s tone, she did not show it. “Now izzat all, or . . .?”

As it turned out, it wasn’t all.

Dash walked slowly out of the hospital, her wings now free of their casts and folded up against her sides. Her bandages had been replaced and the ones on her head and face removed entirely. Dash had been skeptical of her release, but the doctors were adamant that any more time in the hospital would detract from her recovery. The muscles and bones needed stimulation, they said, and Dash needed fresh air. That, combined with Redheart’s lobbying (“You just seemed so upset, dear.”), had given Dash a clean bill of health.

Despite her determination to feel bitter towards the entire world, Dash couldn’t help but be inwardly thankful for the painkillers they had given her. Instead of every step on hard cobblestone being a lance of electricity, it was nothing more than a slight prick. It was also nice to be free of those accursed wing casts. Dash’s wings were still tender, but she could move them around a little bit. She knew better than to stretch them as she had tried during their removal, though – that had managed to hurt even through the painkillers.

Dash looked around her now, the pleasant sensation of a cool evening breeze flowing across her cheek. She was standing just outside the entryway to Ponyville General, the town spreading out around her. She started walking nowhere in particular, just because she could. Her anger had faded in the time it had taken the doctors to remove the casts and replace the bandages, and she now had nothing but a vague veil of depression hovering over her frame.

As Dash wandered, the hours ticked by. She eventually found herself in the middle of Ponyville Public Park, a large expanse of greenery in the middle of an otherwise mostly urban landscape. Dash was wandering down one of the more popular paths, fields stretching away on either side of her. It was dark enough to warrant the streetlamps now, and Dash passed through a pool of illumination every so often. The next bright circle was accompanied by a bench.

Feeling tired, Dash lay herself down upon it. She realized that she couldn’t fly up to her house. Dash sighed, listing off the ponies who could give her a place for the night.
Pinkie Pie? No, she’d never stop asking me about hospital life. Rarity? No, she’d probably faint if I showed up on her doorstep in the middle of the night looking like this.
Applejack, Fluttershy and her own home were all so far away as to be inaccessible, so that left Twilight. Dash inhaled with hope, but forced the breath out when she considered the facts.
No, I told her to go out and have fun, not nurse me back to health.
Dash sighed. The bench was likely the best bed she’d find tonight. She looked around once, making sure there was nopony in sight.
It’s not illegal to sleep here, right?
Dash lay her head down, too tired to care. As she did so, a small spark of a thought made itself known in the back of her head. Dash tried to quiet it down and fall asleep, but it was incessant. Exhaling in annoyance, Dash raised her head and looked around. The thought had been about seeing something, but hadn’t specified.

Dash looked around, eyes coming to rest on a missing filly poster on the lamppost.

Scootaloo’s orange face looked back.

Chapter 4

Rainbow Dash immediately stood up and looked at the poster, not able to believe her eyes. To Dash’s horror, her sight had been true. The poster had a picture of Scootaloo and gave a short description below it, with a promise of a cash reward for any helpful information. Rainbow Dash felt as though the entire world was making less and less sense.
What? Did she run away? Why would she-
The world fell out from underneath Dash.
Oh stars and stones, she’s blaming herself for what happened!
Dash’s concern and confusion were now joined by guilt, hitting her gut as surely as a cannonball. Her thoughts immediately formed a chorus of worries and blame, the former directed at Scootaloo, the latter at herself. Dash’s pulse was racing, and she felt flushed with panic. Where could the filly have gone?

Dash’s knees felt weak, her mind filling itself with hellish visions: Scootaloo calling out for help from underneath a fallen tree branch, Scootaloo screaming as a manticore brought down its fangs upon her, Scootaloo crying as she was surrounded by dark figures in a deserted back alley.

Dash shook her head, angry at herself for getting so distracted. Fantasizing and worrying wouldn’t accomplish anything – Scootaloo needed to be found, and she needed to act, not think. Dash started pacing, trying to distract her subconscious with movement.
Okay, okay, okay. If she ran, then . . . then she’s probably gone someplace she knows, so where would that be?
With the CMCs.

Sweet Apple Acres was closer than the Carousel Boutique, so Dash turned herself towards it and reflexively opened her wings. A sharp web of pain across her feathers and wing bones reminded Dash why she had been walking more as of late. Even through the dull haze of painkillers, the pain was still enough to cause Dash to gasp and snap her wings shut, eyes watering. Cursing beneath her breath, Dash took off towards Sweet Apple Acres as quickly as her hooves allowed.

When Dash arrived at the farm, she was panting and tired. Rainbow Dash had only run this much at the Running of the Leaves against Applejack, but she had been concentrating on anger too much to care then. Now, she could feel every ragged intake of air into her lungs, cold against the heat of her body. She was built for flight, not track.

Luna’s moon shone with enough silvery light to illuminate the main yard, into which Dash now trotted. There was the farmhouse across from the gate, the barn over at the right side, and the start of a dirt path leading into the rows of apple trees to the left. Dash could see that the farmhouse was dark, everypony inside presumably sound asleep. The pegasus cantered across the distance of the yard, a speck of colour against a sea of silver-white. Dash reached the door, raising a hoof to knock when she saw something at the edge of her vision. Moving away from the farmhouse, Dash had a better look at it.

A soft orange light was just barely visible from across the orchard fields. Her stamina restored with hope, Dash jogged off towards it. Her hoofs beat a soft rhythm against the grass of the apple orchard and the wind was a cool comfort in her mane and across her face. For a couple of minutes, the world was silent except for the thudding of hooves and the panting of a worried mare. Dash inwardly berated herself for not being able to run faster without a monstrous stitch lancing through her side.

Dash had always prided herself on being fast, but she felt almost powerless now, as though trying to wade through chest-deep molasses. No matter how much she pressed herself, even sprinting through the stitch’s pain in short bursts, it wasn’t enough. The light was still visible whenever Dash crested a hill, but the trees obscured it and made navigation more difficult than it had any right to be. Dash sullenly reflected upon how this wouldn’t be a problem with the power of flight.

Dash burst through a final wall of greenery and into a large clearing, which was dominated by the CMC treehouse. Light shone gently out the windows and doorway. All was quiet and still.

Dash slowly stepped up the ramp.

“Hello? Anypony there?”

Silence greeted Dash, and she saw that the inside of the treehouse was empty except for her. There was a table in one corner of the room, upon which a lit kerosene lamp stood. There were some saddlebags piled in a corner. Dash recognized them instantly, and relief flooded over her in a cool tide.

Thank the goddesses, she is here. Sort of. I still need to find her.

Scootaloo shivered as a cold wind blew across her. The orange pegasus curled herself into a smaller ball, trying to preserve what warmth she could. She was naked, deprived of even her saddlebags, and the night did not care for her any more than it did for an insect freezing to death on a leaf.

Scootaloo finally forced herself to her feet, thinking to go back to the relative warmth of the treehouse now that the Apple family would all be asleep. She instantly wished she hadn’t, as her inner joints and belly protested at being robbed of what little heat they had managed to gather. Failing to suppress another shiver, the orange pegasus wiped the tears away from her cheeks and gathered up a few windfalls from the apple tree she stood under. Some of them were rotten and all of them were soft, but Scootaloo did not care.
I’m already hiding out on the Apple family property. I won’t be a thief as well as a-
The scene replayed itself in her mind’s eye, appearing before Scootaloo could will herself to forget. The lightning bolt, nearly ready to strike, a massive thunderclap followed by speed and a rainbow. Then, a shockwave, a miniature sun. Then, Rainbow Dash falling.

Then, a dull crack.

Scootaloo forced her eyes shut in a futile attempt to stop the tears. They found a way past her eyelids, as they always did. Her small frame was wracked with shaky sobs and torn with guilt. Scootaloo sank to her knees, too unsteady to remain standing.

Scootaloo couldn’t contain her sobs anymore, and they escaped from her throat in ragged chokes. Nearly killing her idol hadn’t been enough, oh no, she’d had to go and ignore the only friends she’d ever had. They had been crusading as a trio for nearly a year, and Sweetie Belle had known Scootaloo even before that. The three of them had become closest friends through their trials and misadventures, built a bond strengthened by the simple fact that they were there for one another.
And then I go and get my cutie mark after ignoring them for nearly a month, hospitalizing Rainbow Dash in the process.
Scootaloo sniffed, then sobbed once, managing to regain a semblance of control.
Cutie Mark Crusader bad pony. Yay.
The orange pegasus swivelled her head, looking at her right flank with contempt. Upon it rested a bright red cross, speed lines trailing behind it. Her books had told her that it meant she was to be a paramedic, or something similar. Helping ponies in need. Swooping in to save the day.

Gods, it was a joke.

The mark on her flank was a mockery, a cosmic caricature of what she’d done. She hadn’t helped anypony. She’d severely injured her idol, gouged a rift between her and her friends. Assuming that Dash did make a full recovery, would she be able to fly again? Would she be able to perform Sonic Rainbooms and save Equestria from evil, night-controlling god-princesses?

Scootaloo’s eyes hardened into purple slabs as she glared at the symbol on her flank.

When the flight school exam rolled around, Scootaloo had no idea how she’d do, what she’d do. The government hadn’t yet contacted her about what sorts of changes would be made to the exam, or to her curriculum texts. And when they did, what then? Scootaloo had been studying general flying and biology, not the sort of sprinting, endurance flight and medical knowledge a paramedic needed. She’d have to start almost from scratch, ensuring that what little free time she had now would be extinguished.

Scootaloo’s face contorted with anger and her eyes glistened with fresh tears. She bared her teeth and started shaking with rage. She had been staring at her flank for so long, the mark was nothing more than red shapes and lines, devoid of all meaning.

And even if she did get in, then what? Hard endurance flight camp, followed by nights of studying for her medical classes? Assuming she got any time off, what would be the point of it? The Crusaders weren’t her friends anymore. The Crusaders weren’t anything. As for her parents, Scootaloo didn’t know what to think about her parents yet. Her mother hadn’t been at home since the . . . big night, and her father-

“I’m a good pony!” Scootaloo grunted in anger. She slammed a hoof into the ground next to her, unable to restrain herself. The orange pegasus glared murderously at what was now a red blur on her flank. Without thinking, she raised her hoof from the ground and struck at the blur. Her hoof bounced off the muscle in her flank, and Scootaloo barely felt it. The impact was nothing to her emotionally-charged mind.

There was a moment of almost absolute silence, punctuated only by Scootaloo’s ragged breaths.

“Cost me my friends,” She seethed around clenched teeth, hitting her mark with both hooves. There was a dull thwap as they made contact.

“Cost me Rainbow Dash!” She said, louder. Another thwap.

“Stupid!” Scootaloo cried, louder still. Another thwap, accompanied by a high-pitched noise. The noise did not have a word to represent it – it was simply a sound of anger and pain. Scootaloo continued hitting her cutie mark, putting all the strength she had into the blows, timing them to her words.

“Dumb, no-good, rotten, miserable-”

Thudding hoofsteps, then a horrified voice.

“S-Scootaloo?”

“STUPID STUPID STUPID STUPID-”

Then there are blue limbs prying her away from herself, and Rainbow Dash is standing there, looking at her with wide eyes. Scootaloo managed to look up and into Dash’s face, seeing the worry there.

Rainbow Dash, the pony she’d nearly killed.

Overcome with a fresh wave of sorrow, Scootaloo choked and broke away from Dash’s gaze, unable to look the blue pegasus in the eye. Dash instantly moved forward and embraced Scootaloo, hugging her tight and whispering reassurances.

“Oh gods above I was so worried about you how long have you been out here what happened oh you’re crying don’t worry don’t worry it’s going to be all right . . .”

Scootaloo was initially surprised by the gesture, but she soon responded to it and buried her face in Dash’s shoulder. Dash wrapped her wings around Scootaloo protectively, inhaling sharply at the pain, but refusing to let it win. Scootaloo’s tears had returned, and the two sat there for a time as Scootaloo cried herself out and a damp patch formed on Dash’s shoulder. Eventually, Scootaloo spoke up.

“Rainbow Dash, w-what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be . . . y’know . . .” Scootaloo’s voice cracked and she found herself unable to utter the words.

“They let me out just this afternoon. They said that the damage was mostly to my muscles and nerves, so there wasn’t much left to actually heal.”

“Oh. That’s good, I guess.”

“Scootaloo, what are you doing out here? I saw your face on a missing filly poster in the park. How long have you been here?”

Scootaloo was silent for a moment, then:

“This . . . this is my second night.” Rainbow Dash sighed with relief at the words. So she hadn’t been out here too long. Okay. This was better than Dash had hoped. Suddenly, a cold wind blew across the two ponies, interrupting Dash’s thoughts. They agreed that the treehouse would be a better place to discuss things, and walked back to it. Scootaloo limped slightly, favouring her right hind leg.

They seated themselves on the floor, facing each other. Scootaloo couldn’t meet Dash’s gaze, but neither could she stop herself from staring at Dash’s bandages. Lightning was enough to kill ponies by itself, her textbooks had said. Lightning combined with a Sonic Rainboom was another story altogether, and it perplexed Scootaloo that Dash had recovered so quickly. Before she could continue this train of thought, Dash spoke, breaking the silence.

“Scootaloo, does the Apple family know you’re here?”

“. . . No.”

“Okay. Well, we can deal with that in the morning, I suppose,” said Dash. “Wait, what have you been eating and drinking if they don’t know you’re here?”

“Well water and windfalls from the apple trees. I haven’t taken anything – I’m not a thief!” Scootaloo said defensively.

“Hey, whoa, nopony said you were,” Dash said, gesturing reassuringly with her hooves. Scootaloo realized how she had sounded and sighed. She started to say something, but Dash stood up and moved to a window. The blue pegasus reached her neck out, grabbing at a nearby branch. She pulled back, dragging the end of it through the window. Dash gestured to Scootaloo, then the tree branch.

Scootaloo walked toward it, aware of a growing pain in her right flank. She now saw that there were apples on the branch. Big, juicy apples, at least twice the size of what she had been eating recently. The smaller pegasus hesitated, unsure of what to do. Dash grunted something affirmative around the branch, motioned with a hoof. Scootaloo tentatively craned her neck and plucked off several apples, depositing them on the floor. Dash released the branch, which whipped out of the treehouse window.

Dash knelt by the apples and nudged one towards Scootaloo. The smaller pegasus stared at the fruit for a moment, clearly hesitant.

“Uh, Dash, you’re sure that Applejack . . .” she said, her voice shaky.

“I’m sure that Applejack won’t mind,” Dash responded. “You need to eat, and a few apples won’t make a difference either way.”

Scootaloo nodded absently, her eyes still locked on the apple. After another second of deliberation, she fell ravenously upon it. The sight of the apples had awakened the true depth of Scootaloo’s hunger, and the ache in her flank was now painful enough without having to compete with hunger pangs.

Dash munched absent-mindedly on an apple of her own while watching her student devour her way through a couple kilograms of fruit. Occasionally, the blue pegasus’s eyes would drift back to Scootaloo’s flank, and the slight bruising now just visible there. Dash was worried, but she held her tongue.
That can wait. The important thing is making sure Scootaloo’s fed properly.

After the orange pegasus had eaten to her stomach’s content, she sat back on her haunches and sighed contentedly. She felt much better now that her stomach was full. Rainbow Dash has likewise finished her apple, and now sat opposite Scootaloo, a small pile of apple cores between them.

“So . . .” began Rainbow Dash, searching for the right way to begin the conversation.

“Why am I here?” asked Scootaloo. Dash nodded, and the orange pegasus sighed. “Well, when you got injured . . . I figured I couldn’t just sit around in the hospital forever, y’know?”

“Of course.”

“Well, the first thing I did was to look up what my cutie mark meant. Apparently I’m cut out to be a paramedic, or something like that.” Scootaloo sighed and hung her head. Dash was instantly at her side, a hoof resting comfortingly across Scootaloo’s shoulders.

“What’s the matter with being a paramedic? It’s good work.”

“Yeah, but . . . I . . . I haven’t helped anypony. I mean, just look at how I treated the other Crusaders – I haven’t spoken to either of them for nearly a month. And now I get my cutie mark? Without either of them? ” Scootaloo said, leaning into Dash’s side. “Oh Gods, they must hate me.”

“Scootaloo.”

“Yeah?”

“Scootaloo, look at me.”

She did, and saw that Dash was looking down at her with a sad little smile on her face.

“Scootaloo, have the Crusaders told you themselves that they feel that way?” Dash said. Scootaloo paused for a moment, then:

“Well, no . . .”

“Have they said anything negative at all?”

“I . . . I guess not . . .”

“So where did you get this idea?”

Scootaloo broke away from Dash’s look, and scanned the floor with her eyes as she thought. It was true that the other Crusaders hadn’t said anything negative to her, but . . .

“Well,” said the orange pegasus, “how else could they feel?” Rainbow Dash merely chuckled knowingly at this before responding.

“Scootaloo, what you have with the Crusaders is a true friendship, and one that I’m sure will last long into your lives. Friends are a lot of things, but the true sign of a friend is how well they listen and forgive.”

“You . . . you really think so?” asked Scootaloo, managing to look up and meet Dash’s eyes.

“I’d bet my life on it.”

At this, Scootaloo’s eyes closed and her face screwed up. She sniffled and her head returned to its neutral position – completely level, devoid of any indication of emotion. Dash winced at the reaction her words had wrought.

“But it’s not just the Crusaders that drove you out here, is it?” she asked, already knowing the answer.

“No.” Scootaloo mumbled at length.

“Does it have to do with me?” Dash asked, again sure of the answer before the question.

“Y-yeah,” Scootaloo mumbled again, shifting slightly on her haunches. Dash lowered her head to Scootaloo’s level before speaking again.

“Wanna tell me about it?” the cyan pegasus asked, resting her temple lightly against Scootaloo’s. Scootaloo took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly. Only then did she speak.

“Well . . .” she began, voice faltering, “ever since the . . .” Scootaloo trailed off, looking for the right word. “Since the . . . accident, I . . . I . . .” Scootaloo choked on the words, unable to finish her thought.

“I’m so sorry, Rainbow Dash!” Scootaloo cried, throwing herself into Dash and wrapping her forelegs around the larger pegasus’s chest. Small tears formed in her eyes despite her emotional fatigue, and strangled half-sobs punctuated her words. “It’s just, what we talked about, with being a weather pegasus . . . and, and then when I . . . and you saved me and . . . and you almost . . .”

Dash returned the gesture, gently shushing the smaller pegasus and speaking soft words of support. Scootaloo finally spent her emotional reserves and sat there, shakily inhaling and exhaling.

“Oh Gods, Dash, I’m so sorry. You almost-”

“Scootaloo, it’s okay,” Dash said. Scootaloo sniffed, then raised her head and met Dash’s eyes with her own.

“But . . . but I . . .”

“Scootaloo,” Dash continued, her tone maternal, “I understand why you did what you did. The way I described being a weather pegasus, it was only natural you’d be interested.” Dash paused for a moment, then continued.

“I didn’t tell you how lightning wrangling takes years of practice to do safely, or how unpleasant it actually is to command a cold front for days on end, or how thankless the job is when you have to interrupt everypony’s spring day with a huge rainstorm.”

At the last part, Scootaloo managed to mix a chuckle in with her sobs, and a hint of a smile formed on lips.

“Look, I made it through the whole ordeal fine, and you even managed to get your cutie mark. So, don’t feel bad, alright? Things happen. It’s how you react to them that matters.”

“Y-you mean,” Scootaloo sniffed, “you really . . . you really aren’t mad at me, or anything?”

“Scootaloo, of course I’m not mad at you. I’m just glad you’re safe.”

Scootaloo grinned sheepishly, already feeling leagues better than she had less than an hour ago.

“I guess I’ll have some explaining to do once we go back to Ponyville, huh?” Dash just smiled in return.

“That can wait until the morning. In the meantime, you need a good night’s sleep.”

“I’d love to, but I don’t really have any blankets or anything,” agreed Scootaloo, her voice falling slightly as she realized what this entailed. “I mean, unless you want to wake up Applejack or something . . .”

Dash pondered the dilemma for a moment, hoof upon chin. Then, inspiration struck. Dash stood up and moved away from Scootaloo, onto the centre of the rough rug on the floor. She then lay down on her side, tucking her hooves in against herself. Scootaloo was thoroughly confused by this procedure, and made this clear on her face.

Dash then lifted one of her wings, and Scootaloo’s confusion evapourated.

Scootaloo moved her mouth soundlessly, unsuccessful in her attempts to articulate the bevy of emotions she felt. Eventually, she settled upon two words, said as she nestled in against Dash’s side and blue feathers blanketed over an orange coat.

“Thank you.”

Chapter 6

Rainbow Dash walked slowly along the path leading from Sweet Apple Acres into Ponyville. She and Applejack had parted ways at the farm’s gates after the earth pony had given her some painkillers from Granny Smith’s store – a small flask of black, foul-smelling liquid. This brew was apparently a powerful enough remover of pain to allow Dash to fly, and Applejack had intended it to help Dash get back to her cloud house for a proper night’s sleep in an environment more suited to a pegasus than hardwood planks.

Dash had initially been skeptical of its alleged pain-reducing qualities, but Applejack had spoken from personal experience, and vouched for the liquid’s effectiveness. Dash had gulped down as much of it as she could manage before her taste buds could rebel completely (it tasted like evil, they told her) and recovered with only a couple of coughs, walking off with the flask cradled under her left wing. She took a measure of comfort knowing that despite the recent strain, they weren’t completely useless.

Currently, she planned to walk back through Ponyville to get as close to her house as possible, then down a measure of the liquid and fly up once it took effect. After that, she would crawl into bed and let her wings heal back to top shape before she bothered venturing out the door. She wouldn’t give the world another opportunity to render her flightless, oh no.

The pegasus cast a glance around her absentmindedly while reviewing her plan, seeing the world around her but not truly registering it. There were fields, mostly, dotted with copses of trees here and there, and forests off in the distance. The sky was, in a break from Ponyville form, mostly grey and overcast. As she completed the walk back into Ponyville and the road transitioned from packed dirt to cobblestone, Dash felt the slight pat of a raindrop against the back of her neck.

Annoyed, the blue pegasus cast a look up at the sky again, trying to see where the main body of clouds was. What she had dimly seen on her walk had told her more of a light rain than a torrential downpour, so Ponyville proper likely wouldn’t get anything worse than a small spitting – presuming, of course, that the cloud formation wasn’t planned to move.

After a minute of this, Dash gave an aggravated sigh and trotted off in the direction of the town billboard. Rounding a corner into the town square (which was in front of the library), she caught sight of it across the way from her. With a nervous glance at the library, Dash quickly cantered over to the raised rectangle of cork that provided Ponyville with general announcements, news and weather schedules. In previous times, the board had done much more than that, but newspapers and generally more open lines of communication had lessened its role in the daily life of the average pony.

Truth be told, the board did nothing that newspapers didn’t, but was kept around for tradition’s sake and for the old-timers who hadn’t taken much of a shine to newspapers. Dash herself had never needed the board much, as the weather schedules were generally her responsibility to announce and help plan. Her recent occupations, however, had provided her with a less involved role in weather-based activities. More than once, she had glanced at the board on her way back into town after teaching Scootaloo and been thankful for the notification of an impending weather pattern.

Coming to a stop squarely in front of the board, Dash looked up at the upper-right corner reserved for the week’s weather schedule. Before the pegasus could register the symbols and their meanings, she was interrupted by a gasp.

“Rainbow Dash, is that you?” cried a voice from a good distance behind her. Dash recognized that voice, and grimaced ever so slightly as she turned around.

Drat. I didn’t want to get her involved in this.

“Ah, hi Twilight,” Dash replied, turning to face the unicorn. As Dash did so, she noticed that Twilight looked better than she had in the hospital lighting. Her complexion seemed smoother and the purples of her body more vivid and pronounced – her coat, for lack of a better word, glowed, and her mane and tail seemed to be a study in contrast. Her eyes in particular could have been mistaken for gateways into some crystalline dimension of stars and clear black water. In fact, they seemed to be getting closer-

“Oof!” Dash exclaimed in surprise, interrupted as Twilight crashed into her and drew the pegasus into a tight hug.

“Ohmygoodnessohmygoodness!” the unicorn squealed, hopping up and down as much as her position would allow her. “You got out of the hospital and everything!”

“Um, Twilight,” said Dash, struggling to inhale.

“Well, I guess not everything, since you still have the bandages and whatnot, but still.”

“Twilight,” Dash croaked, swatting at Twilight’s shoulder with a hoof.

"What is it, Dash?"

“Can’t breathe . . .” Dash’s voice gave out, her words turning into a dry exhalation.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” Twilight cried, releasing Dash from her grip. The pegasus fell back onto all fours, relishing the sensation of cool air flooding into her lungs. Twilight’s enthusiasm was great, but it could be a little much sometimes. After regaining her composure, Dash raised her head and looked Twilight in the eye. Twilight returned the look with one of her own, laced with worry and a touch of guilt.

“So, Twilight-”

“Rainbow, how did you-”

The two ponies abruptly stopped, each willing to let the other go first. After a moment, Twilight sat back on her haunches and motioned for Dash to speak first. Dash nodded quickly, then spoke.

“Um, Twilight,” said Dash with a wave of her foreleg and a distinct lack of certainty to her tone. Perhaps it was just the natural sunlight as opposed to the fluorescent tubes of the hospital, but Dash couldn’t remember Twilight ever looking so . . . pleasant. “Did you do something with . . . this?”

A slight pause, then:

“Dash, you just gestured to all of me.”

“Hmm? Oh, so I did. Well, um, what I meant to say was that you look, uh . . .” Dash searched for an appropriate word. Twilight leaned forward a bit, unsure of where the conversation was going.

“You look nice,” finished Dash after a moment, “and I was wondering if you’d done anything differently.”

Twilight, seeing the inquiry to be harmless, if a bit odd, looked up pensively and tapped her chin with a hoof, trying to remember what she’d done earlier that day. Nothing seemed to jump out at her as being particularly different. Except . . .

“Well, I did get a good night’s sleep – I can’t really think of much else.” Twilight shrugged, returning her hoof to the ground. “I’m not really one for makeup.”

“Well whatever it was, you should do it more often,” said Dash. “You really look nice.”

“Oh, thanks,” Twilight said, blushing and averting her eyes. Suddenly, Twilight jumped with a sudden realization. “Oh, but here we are talking about my appearance when you’ve gotten out of the hospital! How did you manage that?”

“Oh, well I, um . . . I uh, I . . .” Dash struggled to articulate her thoughts – why was she having such difficulty with this? It was plain as day: the ponies at the hospital had let her out because she’d healed up, simple as that. All she needed to do was say as much.

“I, uh . . . I got better.”

Twilight was silent for a good ten seconds, expression unreadable as she waited for Dash to continue. When it became apparent that she did not intend to do so, the unicorn spoke. “You . . . got better?”

Godsdammit, why can you never articulate yourself properly when it counts?

Dash started to say something several times, but couldn’t quite get going. Eventually, she composed herself, took a deep breath, and spoke.

“The doctors said that whatever healing I had left to do couldn’t be helped in the hospital, so they let me out to start re-exposing myself to society. Walking around town, talking to people,” Dash coughed awkwardly, her voice turning into a mumble. “Doing the rest of my community service hours . . .”

“Ah, I see,” Twilight said, nodding. “But you really recovered that quickly?”

Dash shrugged. “The doctors were just as surprised. Being struck by Rainboom-lightning isn’t really an everyday thing, so they didn’t know quite what to make of it. I’m sure the hospital would keep that kind of stuff on file if you’re interested.”

Twilight nodded, deep in thought and medical theory. “I might have a look at that, actually. Medicine’s been kind of hobby of mine and that would be an interesting detail to study.”

Dash chuckled. “Glad I can be interesting.”

“No, that’s not- I mean, I didn’t mean-” Twilight gasped, eyes wide with embarrassment.

“Relax, Twilight,” Dash said, chuckling good-naturedly and making a calming motion with her hooves. “I was just joking. It’s great that you can find some ray of light in this whole mess.”

“. . . This whole mess?” asked Twilight. “You got out of the hospital and are on your way to recovery – what else is there?”

And now you express yourself all too well. Great job, Dash.

“Well, um, my community service kind of changed . . .”

“Changed? Changed how?” Twilight leaned forward, eyes carrying concern. It was now Dash’s turn to feel embarrassed, and she shied away from Twilight’s question, unable to properly answer it at the moment.

“Uh, do you mind if I explain as we walk? I kind of have to be somewhere.”

Twilight agreed, and the two set off in the general direction of Rainbow Dash’s cloud house, following the street that went most directly. Twilight couldn’t help but peek at Dash’s bandages, appraising them with the eye of a concerned amateur and thus seeing more faults than there were. The bandages had loosened and hung from Dash’s frame more than wrapped around it, but the pegasus gave no indication that she noticed or cared.

As they walked, Dash explained the events of the previous day, starting with seeing Scootaloo’s missing filly poster.

“It’s just terrible that happened,” said Twilight, downcast. “Some Guards came by and asked if I could scry her location, but I just couldn’t get a bead on her. Too much residual magic in the air, I think – from that Electric Rainboom and all.”

“Don’t worry too much about it, Twilight,” Dash said reassuringly, “I found her out at the CMC treehouse. She was more upset than scared.”

Twilight was surprised, to say the least. “You just found her out there?”

“Well, I figured she ran away because she felt guilty about what happened to me, and that she’d be at some place she knew. The treehouse just happened to be the first place I checked.”

Twilight listened to this worriedly, but calmed after she processed what Dash said. “So she’s with her father again?”

“Yes – unfortunately, that’s where things get a bit messy.”

Twilight’s head tilted in confusion. “How?”

“Well, y’see- hang on, we should turn here.”

The two ponies took a right at the intersection, walking along a cobblestone road between two rows of houses. Ponies passed them every now and again, but the majority of the activity took place in and around the town square, and this part of Ponyville was largely empty. As they moved towards the countryside outside of Ponyville proper, this only became more so. The rain had picked up slightly, but was still just a heavy spitting. A single drop spattered heavily on Dash’s nose, and she snuffed in irritation before completing the turn and setting off.

When they had finished reorienting themselves, Dash continued speaking.

“The thing is,” she started with a sigh, “Mr. Nimbus came by to visit the treehouse the morning after I’d found Scootaloo, and he didn’t take kindly to what he saw. Can’t say I blame him, really.”

“What? You found his daughter – how could he not take kindly to that?” Twilight’s tone was shocked.

Dash continued as though she hadn’t heard Twilight, head slumped, tone bitter, and eyes taking in the fine detail of the rocks beneath her hooves. “I probably would’ve reacted the same way if I’d trotted up the ramp to see my daughter sleeping peacefully under the wing of the idiot who’d given her the idiot idea to try lightning wrangling in the middle of a huge storm.”

Twilight didn’t know what to say. “Dash . . .” she managed, hoofsteps slowing and with a voice little more than a whisper.

Again Dash seemed not to hear her. The pegasus’s breathing came more raggedly now, and her chest shook with emotion as she spoke. “This was, of course, after the Royal Guard had swept the treehouse and found nothing worth reporting, and after that same idiot had been reassigned to picking up trash and been replaced with a trained professional because she posed a threat to his daughter’s safety.”

“Rainbow Dash,” Twilight finally interrupted, “what happened?”

“Well, it’s pretty much like I told you, except I haven’t gotten to the part where he explained all of this to me.”

“. . . So, um-”

“Who the hell do you think you are?”

“ . . . Nice to see you too, Mr. Nimbus. Scootaloo’s safe and sound, don’t worry.”

“I’m surprised, considering her company for the last eight hours.”

“Look, is there some sort of problem you have with me?”

“You endangered family. I would think the problem is self-explanatory, though I suppose I can’t expect a fillyfooler like you to understand.”

“. . . Excuse me?”

“You heard me. I should have known that the stress of caring about somepony for more than a single drunken night would have been too much for you to handle.”

“You- . . . You are very lucky that I am being rational about this. Look, I’m sorry about how Scootaloo was endangered. Do not think for a second that I wanted anything to happen to her.”

“And yet you give her the bright idea to try lightning wrangling.”

“We talked shop once, two weeks before that storm was scheduled to roll in! The short-term weather schedules are only drafted a week in advance – how was I supposed to know that she’d try to tame the biggest thunderhead in the sky?”

“Funny, hearing you talk about unexpected consequences.”

“Listen, would it kill you to give me a straight answer- AAAAAAGH!”

“And that’s when I overextended my wings – it’s mostly a blur of pain past that point, and the next thing I remember, AJ’s helping me to my hooves and we’re walking back towards the farmhouse. Scootaloo had disappeared, and I guess her father took her back to their house.”

Twilight fell softly back onto her haunches, mouth open and eyes wide in shock. She hadn’t imagined that Mr. Nimbus could be capable of such actions or words – she herself had spoken with him on several occasions when he was delivering her mail, and he had always seemed to be a level-headed pony. But this . . .

This was insane. Twilight couldn’t process the sheer contrast of the two images warring in her mind’s eye for dominance – one of Mr. Nimbus the mailman, family man and all-around nice guy, the other of Mr. Nimbus, the pegasus-terrifying fury. It didn’t make any sense for him to act that way, she dimly realized. Not without good reason.

Dash, in the silence that had followed her recounting of events, managed to work up the nerve to look up at Twilight and see her reaction to all this. It seemed that the shock of the information had rendered the unicorn unable to speak for the time being.

Your social skills are off the chart, Dash.

“Well, I suppose I’ll just head on home, now,” Dash said, turning away and looking skyward. She could see her house, a small point of colour against the grey clouds. It wasn’t terribly far, but neither was it close. Dash sighed resignedly and took a quick swig of AJ’s herbal medicine and crouched down, preparing to launch herself up into the sky.

Twilight was dimly aware of Dash doing something in front of her, but she couldn’t make out the specifics.

If what Mr. Nimbus said is true, then . . . oh, it can’t be true, it just can’t! I’ve known Dash for months and she’s never been mean like that.

Of course, she’d known Mr. Nimbus for months as well, and he wasn’t the type to lie.

Twilight’s mind had just about tangled itself into a thicket of circular logic when an idea occurred to her. It was stupid and kind of awkward, but it propelled itself to the forefront of her mind like an award-winning gymnast. If she did it correctly, Dash could feel better – that was good, right? Helping Dash? Of course it was. Dash was her friend, and it was terrible to see her like this.

Something must be done.

Twilight snapped back to reality just as Dash uncoiled the energy in her legs and sprang upward.

“Wait!” she cried, propelling herself forward and tackling Dash to the ground with an athleticism she didn’t know she had. The two ponies landed heavily a metre to the left of where Dash had crouched, Twilight partially on top of the pegasus with her forelegs wrapped around Dash’s neck in a hug and her eyes closed tight with emotion.

Dash was understandably confused. After a quick glance to see that AJ’s flask was still intact (it was, a short distance off in a small puddle), she managed to gather herself enough to speak.

“Um, Twilight, what are you doing?”

No response. Dash poked Twilight in the shoulder and repeated the question. “No, seriously – Twilight, what are you doing?”

Twilight seemed to notice this, and drew herself up into a sitting position with a small cough of embarrassment. She hadn’t meant to act that dramatically.

“Oh, right, sorry about that,” she said, blushing. “I just had something to say that I think could really help and I wanted to make sure that you didn’t leave without hearing it.”

A pause.

Dash rolled herself onto her side facing Twilight, propping up her forward half with her forelegs. “Could I hear it, then?” she asked.

“Oh! Yes! Um,” Twilight said, unsure how to properly articulate herself. Eventually, she settled on a course, setting herself before speaking.

“Dash, I just can’t stand to see you like this.”

Dash winced, pulling herself into a proper sitting position. Wallowing in self-loathing was bad enough, but upsetting Twilight jerked at her heartstrings in a deeply painful way.

“Twilight, I-” she began.

“I am certain,” Twilight continued, not letting herself stop for fear that she wouldn’t be able to start again, “that Mr. Nimbus’s . . . behaviour is just him worrying about Scootaloo, and that he’ll snap out of it once he sees that she’s safe.”

“And that excuses him calling me a fillyfooler?”

“No! No. Of course not,” Twilight continued, putting a hoof on Dash’s shoulder reassuringly. “What I mean is . . . What I mean is that I’m sure he regrets saying what he did, and that he’ll come apologize to you personally about it soon enough.”

Dash looked back at the increasingly damp and cold cobblestones beneath her hooves, mulling over Twilight’s words. It didn’t seem like a terribly appealing way for things to play out, but it seemed to be the only one she had open. Her eyes shifted back to Twilight, sitting reassuringly next to her. Somehow, just knowing that she was there made Mr. Nimbus’s words cut a bit less deep.

“. . . Better than nothing, I guess,” Dash said after a moment, beginning to stand. “Thanks, Twilight-”

“Furthermore,” Twilight said, applying a slight downward pressure to keep the pegasus seated. Dash plopped back onto her rear, a bit startled. “This whole doom and gloom attitude you have – look, I don’t know who that is, but it is most definitely not Rainbow Dash!”

Dash looked herself over dully, seeing no changes apart from the bandages that hung about her. “Who am I, then? Spike?”

Twilight shook her head, continuing to speak. “It’s not important who it is – what’s important is getting back Rainbow Dash.”

“Aw, Twilight . . .” Dash said, blushing and rubbing her foreleg nervously.

“No, listen. I saw you like this in the hospital last time, and . . . and it’s just not you.”

“So . . .”

“So we need to get you back!” Twilight exclaimed, poking Dash in the shoulder to emphasize her point. “Whatever you want, we’ll do!”

“Twilight . . .” Dash said, voice falling.

“We’ll go see a movie, we’ll eat tonnes of junk food!”

“Twilight.”

Twilight stopped her rousing motivational speech and looked at Dash, unsure of where her idea had failed. “Y-yeah?”

“Twilight, look,” Dash said, putting her hooves on Twilight’s shoulders in a gesture of thanks, “I really appreciate the offer and everything, but it’s not that simple. Right now, I don’t feel like doing much of anything except crawling into a bed and sleeping for a year.” The pegasus managed a small smile. “So, thank you, but no thank you, okay? Just talking has helped a lot – you don’t need to kill yourself trying to make me happy.”

Twilight deflated. Rainbow was right, obviously – ponies were far more complex than math or, science, or history, or any of the other things she read about in her books.

“ . . . Right. Of course. Foolish to think it was that easy . . .” she mumbled, staring at nothing.

Suddenly, Rainbow Dash hugged her.

The warmth of Dash’s body was a marked contrast to the cold of the air and rock around her, and jolted Twilight out of her sudden depression. Twilight came back to her senses and returned the hug, resting her head on Dash’s shoulder and taking comfort in the pegasus’s gentle strength. She closed her eyes, wanting time to slow, to stop.

Dash seemed fragile to look at, all hot air and posing, but she was an athlete through and through, and one of the best in Equestria. No-one made it that far without being able to take their fair share of adversity, and Dash was an example of that. She had an inner strength to her, a persistent flame that would never extinguish, no matter how tough the going got. It might flicker, sure, and it might dim, but it would always go on.

And so would Dash.

Eventually, the two ponies had to end the hug, and did so with reluctance. Both had enjoyed it, and neither was sure what to say afterwards.

At length, Dash coughed awkwardly and mumbled something about wanting to get back to her house before the weather had a chance to worsen. Gathering up Applejack’s flask, the pegasus bid Twilight goodbye flew up and towards her cloudy abode.

Twilight sat where she was for a minute, watching Dash’s figure diminish into the distance. In time, Twilight picked herself up and trotted back to the library with a lot on her mind.

There must be something I can do – something not so simple, something complex. Well okay, maybe not complex, but something that would help . . .

Twilight pursued this manner of thought all the way back to the tree where she made her home, but still hadn’t managed to come up with an idea. Shivering slightly from the cold damp, Twilight opened the door and trotted into the tree. There were noises coming from the kitchen, and Twilight walked over to it to see what Spike was up to.

Spike, it turned out, was cooking up a stew. He stood on a stool at the stovetop, wearing a chef’s hat and sipping a sample of the concoction from a spoon. Twilight walked over, inhaling deeply – the stew smelled delicious and heady, and the warmth it gave off was a welcome change from the watery air outside.

“Hi Twilight, what’s up?” he said, putting down the spoon he was holding and stirring the mixture with a wooden one propped up against the inside of the pot.

“I saw Rainbow Dash on my way home from the market,” Twilight responded, eyes still glued to the cuisine before her.

“She’s out of the hospital already? That’s great!” Spike said, hopping from his stool to another one by a cutting board. He picked up a knife and started chopping up a cucumber, being careful not to hit his own digits – not because he would be hurt, but because blades had a tendency to dull when exposed to dragon scales. “How was she?”

“She seemed a bit down, but I talked to her for a bit and it seemed to help,” replied Twilight, dragging her gaze away from the stovetop.

“That’s good to hear – you’ll have to tell me over dinner, I think. I can’t really afford to divert too much attention away from the stew.”

“Of course, of cour- is that oregano I smell?”

“Yep!” Spike chirped happily. “The recipe doesn’t technically call for it, but I know how much you like it, so I figured I’d add some anyway.”

“Spike, that's . . . that's a very nice touch. Thank you.”

“Ah, it’s no problem,” Spike responded, hopping back to his original stool and adding the cucumber slices to the mix. “I just figured that you’d been so out of it lately that you needed some cheering up, and food seemed like a good place to start.”

And suddenly, Twilight had an idea.

After a few moments, Spike turned, looking to see why Twilight hadn’t said anything.

She wasn’t there.

She was, however, upstairs, furiously scribbling out a letter.

Of course! It’s simple, yet complex enough to work! Oh, I’ve been going about this all wrong – Rainbow’s blues aren’t an intellectual matter, they’re a matter of the heart, and the fastest way to anyone’s heart is through their belly!

Rainbow Dash, meanwhile, was comfortable and warm underneath her covers, and just about to fall asleep when a scroll materialized overtop of her in a puff of smoke and green flame. The scroll promptly fell, booping her on the nose.

Confused and slightly irritated, Dash unrolled the scroll and read the contents.

Dear Rainbow Dash,

It would be a great pleasure if you could join me for dinner tomorrow night. I know that you said not to overwork myself trying to cheer you up, but I can’t just sit around and do nothing. The way I see it, you wanted to have dinner together to pay me back for helping you, right? Just think of it like that. I mean, my house isn’t exactly a fancy restaurant or anything, but it’s the thought that counts, isn’t it?

I’m aware of your recent wing injury, but I could teleport us back to your house afterwards, and you could mostly just glide back down to ground level to begin with. I checked the weather, and all of tomorrow seems pretty nice.

It would mean a lot to me if you could come over. If you decide to, please show up at my place at 8:00, or some time close to that.

- With love, your friend Twilight

Dash pressed the letter to her face, frustrated at how the whole thing had snowballed into involving Twilight. Her invitation was touching, sure, but she wasn’t sold on it. Mr. Nimbus’s actions maybe being understandable (if not forgivable) had been enough to mull over for one evening – she didn’t need this. She didn’t need Twilight . . .

I don’t need her what? Being a nice person and a good friend?

With an exasperated grunt, Dash flung the scroll at her bedroom wall. It bounced lightly off of the clouds and fell to the floor, which was strong enough to support small objects. The scroll game to rest next to a pile of bandages and a similar piece of parchment, which bore the seal of the Equestrian Courts. Written upon the second scroll was her reassignment of community service, which started tomorrow.

Dash fell back onto her side, brow furrowed and glaring daggers at the papers. She was . . .

Angry?

Sad?

Well she certainly wasn’t happy, that was for sure. Dash sighed, running through the emotional spectrum in her head, trying to pin down how she felt. Eventually, she decided that she was frustrated. Not frustrated at Twilight, of course, but frustrated at the world that everything was happening at once with no consideration whatsoever for her, caught up in the middle.

Dash sighed and rolled over in bed, looking out the window at Luna’s night and trying to fall asleep. Things would be clearer in the morning.

Chapter 7

Rainbow Dash jabbed down with her right forehoof, stabbing a stray piece of paper with the special horseshoe she wore. The horseshoe itself was unremarkable metal except for a small spike on the tip, used for picking up litter. The pegasus lifted her hoof to one of the baggy orange saddlebags she wore and flicked the offending paper into the pumpkin-coloured depths. She had been repeating the motion with subtle variations - cups, for instance, required slightly more pressure - for the beginning half of the day, and it had not grown any more enjoyable.

Dash muttered something unintelligible and vulgar about the whole business to herself before trotting on three hooves over to the bright glint of a pop bottle’s glass. She hadn’t been given a tool to deal with these, so she braced herself for a moment before using her teeth to lift the item into the other saddlebag, taking extreme care not to let her tongue touch it. Despite her efforts, the acrid taste of dirt lingered in her mouth, and she spat to relieve it as best she could.

Shaking her head in irritation, Dash sat back on her haunches and threw a glance at the green space around her. Ponyville Public Park was divided into two main areas - the first area was open, rolling fields dotted with statues and monuments of one sort or another and some paths around the perimeters, while the second was a cool, shady forest more heavily woven with walkways and secluded benches, gazebos, and the occasional stream.

Dash’s current place was with the latter area, and was one that didn’t see as much traffic, which she considered a small mercy. The occasional poet or young couple seeking nature-borne inspiration or a private spot, respectively, would wander past every now and again, but nothing more.

Tugging at the collar of the correctional-facility-orange coveralls she wore, Dash cursed silently and wished for a breeze to come swirling down from the sky. The day was warm for late summer, and the thick, durable fabric of the coverall was warm to the point of being uncomfortable.

Finally, something in Dash’s day seemed to work out for her, and there came the rustle of leaves in the wind a few seconds before a breeze swept down the path and over her. Dash closed her eyes and flared her wings, turning into the breeze and letting it fill every feather. The force of it nearly sent the pegasus tumbling, but she adjusted her position slightly and remained in place. Blissfully, she closed her eyes, wanting to savour every moment of that wonderful, rushing wind.

After a minute, the breeze died down, and Dash sighed before returning to her work.

Wouldn’t want to get too comfortable now, would we?

The clip-clop of hooves along the stone of the pathway roused Dash from her thoughts. A green, black-maned unicorn wearing a beret and a black turtleneck was walking towards Dash. Twisting her neck, she saw that he was levitating a milkshake with him, absently sucking the straw that protruded from the top of the cup. As he passed Dash, he tossed the cup on the ground in front of her.

Dash took a moment to process what had just happened, and by the time she had, the unicorn was already past her and nearly around the a bend in the path.

“Hey!” she called after him, eliciting a pause and a turn of his head.

“Yes?” he asked, one foreleg still lifted.

“What’s the big idea?” Dash demanded angrily, spearing the milkshake cup and hobbling over to him. “Why’d you toss this to me?”

“It is your job to pick up trash, is it not?” the unicorn responded laconically.

Dash sputtered. “Well, yeah, but . . . I mean-”

“Then I fail to see the problem. Have a nice day.”

With that, the unicorn turned around and carried on his way. After a moment, he rounded the bend and was gone from Dash’s sight.

For long minutes, Dash just stood there, mouth slightly agape, taking in what had just happened. The surreality of it made her doubt herself, but the milkshake cup affixed to the tip of her hoof and the sticky ice cream dribbling down her foreleg affirmed the truth of the scenario.

At length, Dash returned to the present and the task of cleaning up the park that had been assigned to her. She thrust the cup into one of her saddlebags, then set about her work with a significantly more foul attitude.

You didn’t need to be such a jerk about it, jerk.

Dash continued in her task for a while, and Celestia’s sun worked its way up to the point of midday. The work was hardly pleasant, but Dash eventually scoured every square metre of the path system she had been assigned (a relatively small network dedicated to a Ponyville pioneer who had died of dysentery). Proclaiming it free of trash, Dash heaved a sigh of relief and immediately took off for the main entrance of the park after removing her horseshoe and nestling it in a side pocket.

Dash didn’t care that the physical act of running was making her coveralls even warmer - her community service hours were done for the morning, and she was determined to make the most of the lunch break she had to herself. There was that whole business with Twilight and the dinner that she had to think about, not to mention how thirsty she was-

Thirsty. She was so thirsty.

Dash halted abruptly, looking around for something to drink, or a place that sold somethings to drink. She had wandered into the more populated areas of the park now, but it was still hardly crowded. There were a couple families enjoying the sun with picnics, but most ponies had day jobs and school that kept them from the park.

Becoming a tad more antsy, Dash stretched up as best she could and managed to see a fast food establishment (it was not something she could rightly call a restaurant) just inside the park’s main gates. It was, unsurprisingly, empty, but had the subtle appearance of a place open for business. Dash normally neglected these, since her athleticism dictated a strict diet which could not permit the amount of fat that normally occurred in fancy fries or wheatburgers - the occasional pizza binge or six-pack notwithstanding, of course.

That day, that moment, Rainbow Dash was willing to make an exception.

Steeling herself, Dash walked over to the establishment, which consisted of a large, predominantly blue stand made of plastic. Outside the stand itself were a few picnic tables that had withstood far more sun, spilled food, and hyperactive children than any table ought to have. Dash had not paid attention to the particular franchise, but she couldn’t miss the bright blue M near the top of the stand as she drew nearer.

And it’s a McFawnald’s, too. Great.

A beige, bored-looking earth pony in his teens stood behind the cash register, wearing a McFawnald’s uniform at least two sizes too small for him. He flicked his eyes up at Dash as she entered, but mostly at the orange coveralls and bags of garbage that Dash wore and had affixed to her sides.

“Um,” he began to say.

“I’m giving back to the community,” quipped Rainbow Dash, crossing the final distance to the register. “Really, you should be honoured to help such an outstanding citizen as me.”

The teen snorted once with laughter. “Fair enough, I suppose. Not like there’s anypony around to care about the smell.”

“The smell?” asked Dash quizzically, glancing down at one of her saddlebags full of trash. It was garbage, sure, but it couldn’t smell that bad, could it? Rainbow Dash lowered her head for a sniff.

Okay, maybe it can smell that bad . . .

Coughing, Dash shook her head and turned back to the earth pony, who had watched Dash cluing in to her fragrance and was struggling to suppress giggles. “So, what’ll you have?”

Dash craned her head back, reading the menu that hung above the counter. This proved of little use, since the food’s names might as well have been written in Gryphon - they all had names like Bippity-Boppin’ Burger Time or Super-Slammin’ Sarsaparilla Sweetness. Each attempt to discern the true intent of the words just made Dash more confused - after a minute, she looked beseechingly at the earth pony, silently pleading for help.

“A wheatburger and a milkshake?” he asked knowingly, knowing all too well the feeling the pegasus had just experienced.

A smile broke out over Dash’s face and she nodded in thanks. “Yeah, that sounds fine.”

“Right, that’ll be seven bits.” The earth pony opened up the cash register and extended a hoof.

“Seven . . . Oh, right! Money!” Dash patted her pockets, but found nothing aside from the horseshoe she had stowed. A frown creased her face, and she tried to remember where she’d put her coinpurse after eating breakfast. With a flash, she remembered what had become of it.

It was sitting at home on her coffee table, right where Rainbow Dash had left it.

Rainbow Dash looked sheepishly up at the pony behind the counter.

“Heh, uh . . . water’s free, right?”

A minute later, Dash sat sullenly at a park bench across the main field from the McFawnald’s, sucking back her cup of water through a straw. The clerk hadn’t been happy about her sudden lack of wealth, and had politely asked that she find a different place to enjoy her beverage, preferably downwind.

Dash had emptied her saddlebags into the park’s trash cans, so the stench of refuse had diminished a bit. That combined with the shade of a nearby tree had improved Dash’s surroundings, if not her mood With a slurp, the pegasus contemplated how her morning had gone.

She had woken up, eaten breakfast and flown - well, glided - down to the local Guard precinct, where she had been issued the coveralls, saddlebags, and horseshoe. After that, it was a blur of greenery and litter that ultimately clarified into the unicorn from the path and the McFawnald’s clerk.

Man, this day has sucked. I might have to take Twilight up on the dinner offer just to balance things out.

The purple unicorn flashed into Dash’s mind, and her breathing calmed a bit. The pegasus closed her eyes and took another pull of water, turning her thoughts to the matter of dinner with Twilight. Dash turned the matter over in her mind, and ultimately arrived at the conclusion she didn’t have any real reason not to go.

Twilight might not be the best cook the world has ever known, but it’ll be nice to just sit and talk with her. She’s probably got at least one cookbook in the library, and if there’s one thing she does well, it’s follow directions. Besides, she has her heart in the right place, and that’s what matters.

Dash’s stomach growled, reminding her how poorly and how little she had eaten.

Among other things, anyway.

So it was decided, then - she would finish up with her community service and do what she could to be presentable before heading over to Twilight’s at the agreed-upon time. Dash fished Twilight’s letter out of a coverall pocket and unfurled it, looking for the time when it would be acceptable to appear on the unicorn’s doorstep seeking food and succor.

Eight o’clock. Well, what time is it now?

Dash looked up at Celestia’s sun, which had just passed its apex.

It’s gonna be a long afternoon, isn’t it?

“Well,” said Scootaloo, hopping into fountain located in the middle of Ponyville town square, “at least now we know that we- I mean, um, you two, don’t have cutie marks for being painters. Or stonemasons.” She lowered her head into the water and began swishing it around, trying to rinse out the paint.

“Ah’ll admit, Ah didn’t think it’d work, m’self. Ah just hope nopony ever tries livin’ in that house.” said Apple Bloom, propping her front half up on the fountain’s edge and opting to hold her head under a cascade of water instead of dunking it. After a moment, the water underneath her hair began to run puce. She glanced behind her. “Ain’tcha gonna wash off too, Sweetie Belle?”

The unicorn of the trio glanced down at herself before responding. “I think I’ll just ask Rarity for help with this. The stuff from your manes is one thing, but I don’t think the fountain could handle all the paint I’m wearing.”

Scootaloo popped her head out of the water and gave it a shake, sending droplets of green and magenta water flying. “Yeah, jeez. You look like you’re wearing a bad Rainbow Dash costume. How did that happen, anyway?”

“How d’you know what makes a good Rainbow Dash costume, Scootaloo?” asked Apple Bloom, giving the pegasus a sideways look.

“Uh, well, um-”

“Well,” said Sweetie Belle, oblivious to the conversation around her, “there was a lot of paint from all the stuff we’d spilled, and it was really slippery, and I kind of tripped, and then I saw myself in the mirror and figured why not . . .” She traced patterns in the dirt with a forehoof while she spoke, then took trotted over to the fountain and took a look at her reflection in the water. “Does it really look that bad?”

“It looks fine,” said Apple Bloom as she pulled her now-pristine mane out from under the water “though Ah doubt it’d be a good idea showin’ up like that at the Grand Gallopin’ Gala.”

The three fillies giggled, and Scootaloo could feel the laughter erode at the worries that had been weighing her down over the past week. She smiled and looked around at her fellow crusaders. Apple Bloom was stopping wet from the neck up and Sweetie Belle looked like an arts and crafts project that even Cheerilee would have difficulty accepting, but she didn’t care. She was having fun hanging out with friends after a day of cutie mark crusading, and that was something she had missed sorely. The crusading had been fruitless, but Scootaloo found that she couldn’t care less.

“Uh, guys,” she said, moving around the fountain’s concrete rim to where the other two ponies stood, “I kind of have something I want to tell you.” The pegasus blushed, anxious about what she had to say, despite having rehearsed it several times in her head. Her friends simply sat back on their haunches, intrigued. Scootaloo steeled herself, then launched into her speech.

“I just wanted to say that hanging out today was really great. I seriously can’t think of a time when I’ve had more fun with you guys, and it was awesome just running around and having paint fights.”

Apple Bloom snickered. “Ah doubt Applejack’ll ever let us near the side of the barn again.”

“With all the stuff that’s happened with Rainbow Dash and my flight training and everything else, I haven’t been able to spend a lot of time with you. I didn’t realize how much I’d missed you two until today. I shouldn’t have just run off with Dash and left you two like I did - you’re worth more than that, and I can do better than that.”

“Aww,” Sweetie Belle started to say, before Apple Bloom shushed her.

Scootaloo was looking squarely at the ground finding it difficult to look her friends in the eye. “What I really mean to say is . . .” The words caught in her throat, but the pegasus made herself say them.

“I love you guys. Can you forgive me-”

“Group hug!” cried Sweetie Belle, throwing herself at Scootaloo and wrapping her forelegs around the pegasus. Apple Bloom joined her a heartbeat later, and Scootaloo followed suit more slowly upon recovering her bearings. “Of course we can forgive you! You didn’t even do anything!” the unicorn said from her spot nuzzling into Scootaloo’s neck.

“But-”

“No buts,” said Apple Bloom, moving away a bit a looking her orange friend in the eye. “So we didn’t hang out for a while. Big deal. Y’ had to focus on yer flyin’, so that’s what y’ did, is all. Now with all that happened, y’ got some time fer hangin’ out with friends, so that’s what yer doin’.” The filly smiled. “It’s simple. No need t’ be sorry.”

Had she not drawn them both into an impassioned hug, Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle would have seen their pegasus friend shed a tear.

Time, indifferent to the emotions of the three fillies, walked on, and they were reluctantly forced to break apart the hug. The sun was setting, and they all needed to be at home soon. Scootaloo and Apple Bloom had a quick rinse in the fountain to remove the unfortunate side effects of hugging Sweetie Belle, and the three agreed to meet up some time in the next few days. With a final farewell, they parted ways.

Scootaloo walked through Ponyville’s streets (predominantly red brick, coloured overwhelmingly orange by the sun’s setting light), letting her hooves take her home. A smile creased her lips as she thought over the day’s events, and how much simple joy had been derived from spending time with the other Crusaders. She let out a contented sigh and hummed without a tune as she approached the final corner to her home. Before she quite rounded it, though, she heard voices cut through the air.

“. . . hospital yet, and now this?! What is the matter with you ponies?!” The voice was unmistakably her father’s, though the outrage was new.

“Sir, it’s not my decision - I’m just the messenger.” This voice was gruff and authoritative.

“I don’t care who you are! Am I just supposed to tell my daughter to keep a stiff upper lip through all of this?”

Scootaloo halted in her tracks, worried. Whatever was going on sounded bad. She edged silently to the corner and peeked out around it, trying to see what was happening.

Her father stood a metre or two in front of their house, facing a Guardsman who wore saddlebags stuffed with scrolls and papers. The bags had the seal of the Equestrian Courts on them, and a scroll lay on the ground at her father’s hooves. Mr. Nimbus’s wings were flared open to their full, impressive span, and his face was warped by anger. The pegasi were between Scootaloo and the sun, and while the Guardsman was granted an effect similar to a halo by this lighting, her father seemed to blur into the surrounding shadows.

“Answer me, damn you!” he continued, leaning forward aggressively.

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to calm down,” said the Guard, holding up a hoof. The slate grey pegasus facing him grunted and arched his back, seeming as though he would wring himself out with anger. After a moment, though, Mr. Nimbus folded his wings to their neutral position with a great deal of effort, relaxed his spine, and looked the Guardsman in the eye.

“I am calmed.” His voice was even, giving truth to his words.

The Guard grunted approvingly, then fished a second scroll out of his saddlebags and placed it on the ground. Its seal was a slightly different colour, but the scroll itself was of similar size. The Guard’s voice lowered, as he no longer needed to shout to make his point, and his words died before they could reach Scootaloo’s ears. He gestured at the scrolls in turn, and spoke for perhaps a minute. He then returned to his normal posture.

Scootaloo watched all of this in silent wonderment. Her father was silent for a long while, looking down at the scrolls before him. He spoke without raising his head.

“It occurs to me that the system is flawed in this regard.”

The Guard merely shrugged. “I just tell people what happens - I don’t decide things. I think the process is up for review in a couple of years.”

The dark pegasus chuckled bitterly. “That soon? Somepony should arrest those bureaucrats for speeding.” He looked up slightly, not quite fully at the Guard. “I don’t suppose you’d have any suggestions, would you?”

“Well,” said the Guard, relaxing and becoming more social, “there is that one mare, the rainbow one?”

At the mention of the word rainbow, Mr. Nimbus’s head darted up and looked the Guardsman squarely in the eye, searching.

The Guard chuckled. “I guess you’ve probably heard of her, what with living in the same town-”

“Are you joking?” asked Mr. Nimbus with a voice devoid of emotion.

There was an awkward pause, as the Guardsman attempted to reason out where the conversation had taken a hostile turn. His hesitation went unchallenged but for the opposing pegasus’s unblinking stare, the amber eyes of which seemed to be reaching into his very soul.

“Uh, no?” he asked tentatively, shying away from the intimidating figure in front of him.

“Leave.”

“. . . Sorry, what?”

Mr. Nimbus propped himself up regally on all four hooves, wings flared, and his amber orbs would have burnt divots into the Guard’s armour had they been capable of such a feat. “Remove yourself from the premises of my home, or by all the Gods in the sky I will end you where you stand.”

A stunned silence followed, and the Guardsman tried unsuccessfully to say something. Ultimately deciding that silence would speak most loudly, he gathered himself up, tried to look like he wasn’t terrified, and flew off.

Mr. Nimbus watched him disappear from sight, then sighed heavily. He relaxed, folded his wings back up, and picked up the scrolls from the cobblestone. He turned to go back into his house. His turn happened to face Scootaloo, and their eyes locked. Scootaloo’s heart skipped a beat, and she unfroze after a moment, managing to heave herself back around the corner. She sat on her haunches, hyperventilating and afraid of what she had just witnessed.

The filly didn’t quite have enough time to rev up into a full-blown panic before she heard the soft clop of hooves approaching from around the corner. Scootaloo whimpered slightly and curled herself up into a ball, dreading what was to come despite not knowing entirely what it would be.

“Scootaloo?” asked her father softly, his voice like burnished oak.

Scootaloo hesitantly opened one eye and looked up beside her. Her father stood halfway around the corner with the scrolls tucked under one wing. He looked down at her with tiredness and worry. “Scootaloo, how much of that did you hear?” he asked her quietly. They were the only two ponies on the street, and the evening was silent around them.

Scootaloo sniffed. Whatever she had been expecting, it had not been this.

“S-something about a hospital, then the r-rest . . .” she said, holding back tears. Her father sighed and hung his head.

“I thought as much. I’m sorry you had to hear that, Scootaloo.”

Scootaloo sniffled, not knowing what to say. Her father sighed again slightly, then extended a hoof. “I have dinner ready. I’ll explain things.”

His daughter looked up at him, eyes wet. “You promise?”

“Promise.”

She took his hoof and walked the handful of metres to their door. They entered, then ate and talked. Her father explained the situation, and Scootaloo mostly sat and listened, taking an occasional bite of her dinner. When the darker pegasus had finished talking, he sat back and waited for his daughter to say something.

She did. “I think you can guess who I want you to pick.”

“Rainbow Dash?”

She nodded. He folded his forelegs across his chest and was silent for a while. “I need to think about this.”

She looked at him pleadingly. “Dad . . .”

He hated doing that to her.

“Scootaloo, please, just . . . just give me the night to think everything over, okay? A lot’s changed tonight.”

Scootaloo didn’t love the idea, but she agreed to let him think the matter over for the night. They finished dinner, then got Scootaloo washed and settled in bed. Her father went back downstairs and sat on the couch, thinking. He remained there until the last of the light died and the moon rose and the slow pitter patter of rain on the roof started, unmoving. It was not until he was certain that his daughter was fast asleep upstairs that he dared move.

He wrote a quick note explaining briefly where he had gone, in case he was delayed, before walking out the door and locking it silently behind him. He was struck by icy droplets of water, for, despite all its pleasant sounds, it was the type of cold rain commonly found in autumn, the type that chilled to the bone and sucked the heat out of the air.

He marked his destination and steeled himself. He was an Officer of the Equestrian Postal Service, and had been through far worse conditions for far less.

With final glance back at his home, Tempestas Charta Nimbus took off into the cold, dark night.

Chapter 8

[You wanna know how good this chapter is? This chapter is so good it doesn't even HAVE FORMATTING.]

Rainbow Dash was trotting along Ponyville’s streets.

After a thankless and hungry day spent picking trash out of the park, she was very pleased at the prospect of having a proper meal at Twilight’s house. Twilight had promised a meal fit to lift her spirits out of the dumps - given the way her day had gone, Dash needed it. She was not normally one to jump at sympathy or charity, but the fact that they were coming from Twilight made it acceptable.

‘Sides, Twilight’s probably planned the whole thing out down to the minute - probably the food, too. Mmm, I wonder what she-

Dash’s thoughts were interrupted by a loud growl from her stomach. She winced visibly and tried to stop thinking about food; if she could just make it to the library, the problem would sort itself out. Without consciously knowing it, the pegasus sped up her steps towards Twilight’s house.

Twilight Sparkle was frantic.

“Gah!” she exclaimed, magicking a small constellation of spices and seasonings around her in midair. She was standing in the kitchen wearing a chef’s hat and apron, attempting to cook up a rather complex dish she had found in a cookbook entitled Advanced Recipes from Around the World. “Where is the paprika? It’s a vital part of this Zebrican stew, and I will not have it done in by a lack of common spice!” She reflexively began to call for Spike before realizing that he was at Sweet Apple Acres acting as a chaperone for the CMC sleepover.

“Drat!” said Twilight said. “The one time I need something I absolutely, positively, cannot find myself, and he’s nowhere to be seen. Books are one thing, but Rainbow Dash and I are going to be eating this!” Twilight pouted at the swirl of spice containers surrounding her. She spent a moment in that pose, hoping that the sight of Twilight Sparkle sad would cause the emotionless glass to grow emotions, oust the coward within their ranks and apologize profusely for wasting her time.

This did not happen.

Twilight harrumphed and magicked the containers back to their spots in the cupboards. She regained her composure, forcing herself to think.

Every problem has a solution. The problem here is that there isn’t any paprika. The obvious solution would be to go to the store and buy some, but - she glanced at the clock - they’ve closed by now. That solution doesn’t work, so I have to thepotisboilingover think of another one wait WHAT.

Twilight looked over in horror as the Zebrican stew slowly rose and bubbled over the sides of the large pot that had previously contained it. It oozed down the sides of the steel, making sick time towards the burner. Any moment now, it would pour onto the hot metal and create a mess the likes of which no kitchen should be forced to endure.

Fortunately, Twilight was very skilled at telekinesis, so she simply levitated the stew back into the pot and turned the burner’s dial to zero. She then walked over to the stew, appraising it. She lifted a spoonful of it out and gave it a tentative taste.

It seems okay.

She glanced at the stew, which had subsided from its boiling and was instead more a solid mass of sauce and vegetable matter with the occasional pocket of air squirming its way to the top.

It looks okay.

. . . Could it be? Was the solution to the paprika problem no solution at all? It was a maddening thought. Twilight had based her academic career - and by extension, practically her whole life - on finding solutions to problems. She had literally written books on the subject, and now there was something to challenge that? Something that said the world was capable of working itself out? How was such a thing possible? The thought was heretical to Twilight’s mind. Ponies were the stewards and masters of their environments, not vice versa! If the opposite were somehow true-

The doorbell rang.

Resolving to have an existential crisis later, cross-referenced with the traditions and customs of cultures without magic, Twilight shook her head clear of the moral dilemma plaguing it and trotted over to the door. When she opened it, Rainbow Dash was standing sheepishly outside.

The pegasus nervously scratched the back of her neck with a hoof. “I know we said eight, but seven is close enough, right? I mean, I can come back, or-”

“Oh, no, that’s fine,” said Twilight. “But what brings you here so early? Did something come up later?”

“Well, no,” said Dash, looking around awkwardly. “I’m just really hungry.” As if on cue, her stomach let loose the largest growl of the day. Dash tried to smile through it. “Haven’t eaten much, since I forgot my money back at home - the jumpsuits they give you aren’t really designed to allow flight.”

Twilight's brow furrowed. “Jumpsuits? For what?”

“It’s kind of a long story. Can I come in?”

“Oh, of course, of course.”

Twilight stepped back from the door, and Rainbow got a proper look at her as she closed the door behind her. The pegasus tried, but could not suppress a giggle at Twilight’s appearance.

“What?” Twilight asked, before following Rainbow’s eyes to her hat and apron. “This? What’s so funny?”

“I didn’t realize you were a top chef, is all,” Dash said between laughs.

Twilight raised one eyebrow. “Is that always how you talk to the hoof that feeds you?”

Dash sobered instantly. “I’ll be good.”

“Much better,” said Twilight with a smirk. “Now you just make yourself comfortable,” she gestured to a table that had two places set at it, “and I’ll get the food.” She trotted back into the kitchen, humming a little.

Rainbow nodded and walked over to one of the cushions set at the table and flopped onto her side on top of it. She let out a mighty sigh and sunk into the down-filled fabric. Twilight, exiting the kitchen with saucepot in tow, felt a concerned frown creep across her face. “Um, Dash,” she asked, “is anything the matter? Is it about those jumpsuits you mentioned?”

Dash looked up at Twilight, moving as little as possible. “I guess, yeah. I was doing community service in the park, and, well, let’s just say that the uniform was not designed for comfort.” She paused, frowning in thought. “Actually, y’know, they might’ve designed it for discomfort.”

Twilight placed the saucepot on the table equidistant between the two places so she could focus on Dash. “What do you mean, Rainbow? I’m afraid I don’t understand.” The unicorn pulled over her own cushion and lay down on it belly-down so that she was roughly on eye level with the pegasus.

Dash shifted a bit, looked away from Twilight’s open, earnest eyes. “Well, I’m doing community service hours since I’m not teaching Scootaloo anymore, and that means that I have to follow all the rules: wear the suit, only take so much time for a break, clean these areas first, you know.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad.”

“It’s not. It’s the stuff they don’t tell you about that gets you. Like how perfectly normal ponies treat you like dirt just because of a lousy outfit, or how much you miss being able to fly anywhere, even if it’s just a little hop.”

Twilight had a hoof over her mouth. Dash continued. “‘Cause, y’know, you can’t just spring around with that much weight - the clothes have a lot of drag, and you’re attached to a couple of trash bags, and it’s not like they’re getting any lighter. And then there’s the smell, too . . .”

“Rainbow,” Twilight interjected, “how can you be expected to do all of that? I mean, you of all ponies! I’m going to write the mayor a letter about this - actually, no, I’m going to write the Princess a letter about this!” Twilight had risen to her feet, one hoof raised dramatically. “An Equestrian hero, reduced to common labour! A national icon-”

Dash dragged herself up to stand next to the agitated unicorn. “Twilight, no, really, you don’t have to do anything about it. I messed up with the Electric Rainboom. I get that.”

“Sonic Rainboom.”

Dash paused for a moment, as if in thought. “Err, yeah. Right. Look, point is, my hooves are sore from standing on them all day. The park grass was soft enough, but it just caught up with me on the way over here.” Dash forced a laugh. “So it’s no big deal. I’m sure I’ll get used to it.” She put a forehoof on Twilight’s shoulder.

“But, Rainbow,” Twilight protested.

“It’s not a big deal, okay?” Dash said again, more forcefully. She paused for a second before continuing. “Now, um, could we eat?”

“Oh, sure,” replied Twilight distantly. She moved her cushion back over to her side of the table and levitated a few ladlefuls of stew into both her and Dash’s bowls.

If she doesn’t want to talk about it, don’t press it. She’s here to enjoy herself, not be interrogated.

“This is a traditional Zebrican stew,” Twilight explained, levitating Dash’s bowl back over to her. “It’s very healthy, of course, and very tasty, but it’s also known for its aroma. If you take a deep breath of it, you can-” Twilight stopped short, leaning over the bowl of stew in front of her. The stew had a powerful smell, sure, but it had not smelled like . . . like . . .

“I doubt it’s supposed to smell like garbage,” said Dash sheepishly. “That’s my bad, actually.”

Twilight blinked, her attention refocused on the world around her. “Oh, no, really, it’s not . . . that is, um . . .”

Dash held up her hooves and rose from the table, ignoring the signals of mutiny from her digestive tract. “No, it’s alright. I needed to get the smell off sooner or later. Do you mind if I use your shower? It’ll only take a minute.”

“Um, oh. Sure.” Twilight pointed down a hallway leading off of the main room. “Second door on the right.”

Dash thanked her and walked off. Twilight sat down at the table, hooves on her forehead.

What happened? I just wanted for Rainbow Dash to have a nice dinner and enjoy herself, and . . . and now she’s showering so she doesn’t offend me? What?

Twilight heard the muffled spray of her shower stall through the walls of her house. Dash was over there right now, cleaning herself up so as not to wreck Twilight’s evening. But that was just it: it wasn’t supposed to be Twilight’s evening, it was supposed to be Rainbow Dash’s evening! And what kind of host was she? Not having the food cooked on time, relentlessly ploughing through topics of conversation she should have known far better than to bring up - even the pretense of dinner itself had been nothing more than a cheap trick. A temporary cure for a single symptom, not even attempting to approach the cause.

Twilight shook her head in frustration.

No. Every problem has a solution. I just need to do something for Rainbow Dash, to show her how much I care about her. How she isn’t in this alone. Ugh, come on Twilight, think!

And just like that, she had an idea. Was it perfect? Well, no, but it was an idea nonetheless!

Twilight quickly turned to the bookshelves, searching for a particular book. Finding it, she flipped through its contents quickly. She had just finished doing so when the noise of the shower stopped. Twilight quickly replaced the book back on its shelf and darted back to the table just as Rainbow Dash emerged from the hallway in a purple bathrobe with a design of Twilight’s cutie mark on it.

“Hope you don’t mind about the robe. There were a few others, so I figured . . .”

“Oh, no, it’s quite all right,” said Twilight with a dismissive flick of her hoof. “Won’t you have something to eat?”

“Would I?” asked Dash, eyeing her stew with a grin that would put a timber wolf to shame. She paused briefly and seated herself before diving into the stew. Twilight had not bothered putting cutlery on Dash’s side for this reason more so than her inability to use it.

Dinner passed mostly in silence, punctuated by Dash stuffing food into her mouth and asking for refills. When the saucepot had been almost completely emptied, Dash sat back and patted her belly contently, eyes closed in bliss.

“Ohhh, that is so much better,” she said, utterly pleased. The contrast of a day without food had made the stew seem like something from the royal kitchens.

“Don’t get too comfy,” warned Twilight with a sly grin, “there’s one other thing I want you to see.”

Rainbow Dash opened one eye curiously. “Oh? What’s that?”

Twilight stood up and paced over to a small expanse of cushions intended for casual reading. She sat down and patted the seat next to her, and Rainbow Dash complied. Twilight rolled her eyes and made a little twirling motion with her hoof, indicating that Dash put her rear hooves towards Twilight. The pegasus seemed unsure of the position, even less so when Twilight reached forward and gently grasped one of Dash’s hooves between her own.

“Now, I know you don’t like ponies touching your hooves.”

“Um, Twilight-”

“So I’m just going to use my magic, okay?”

“Twilight, no, I don’t-”

“So, really, it won’t even be like a massage at all, technically speaking.”

“Twilight, don’t-!” was all Dash managed to say before her words turned into a pleased groan. The pain in her hooves that had hounded that leg the entire day was gone, simply gone like a kite in the breeze. “Unnnhhhh,” she managed to say, her limbs going limp and her head rolling back along the pillows surrounding her.

“Th-the others . . .” the pegasus barely managed to get out, a desperate plea to have Twilight’s miraculous magic extend to her other problem areas. Twilight was happy to comply, and soon all four of Dash’s hooves were enveloped in a magenta glow.

After a few minutes of this, Dash regained some of her senses. She raised her head back up to look at Twilight. “H-how . . .” she breathed.

“Basic massage technique for sore hooves. There’s a book on it somewhere around here, actually.”

“That’s . . . that’s incredible . . .”

Twilight looked at Dash. “Really?”

The pegasus nodded. “Really. It’s . . . I can’t even say thank you enough . . .”

Twilight smiled. “You know,” she said, beginning to wind the massage therapy down, “this isn’t really a lot of strain for me. I can do it whenever you need the help.”

Dash looked back at the unicorn as though she had sprouted wings and a halo. “You . . . you could?”

Twilight nodded. “Yeah, sure. If it’s that big a problem with your community service, I don’t see any reason not to do so.”

Dash smiled openly and warmly for the first time that evening. “Thank you. Thank you so much, Twilight. If you can really do this, then I’ll be able to do the hours like they’re nothing,” she said before promptly letting her head lean back and falling asleep.

Twilight giggled to herself and went upstairs to get some spare sheets. She returned and levitated them up over Rainbow Dash’s sleeping form, smiling as the pegasus snored cutely. The unicorn sat down for a moment and just watched Dash sleeping peacefully, the covers rising and falling evenly with each breath - a metronome ticking out the rhythm of daily life. it had been disrupted for so long, but now it seemed like that even tempo was attainable.

An idea occurred to Twilight. She looked quickly around, making sure that, yes, there was nopony around before softly lifting up the sheets and snuggling her way underneath them next to Dash. She dared not touch - not that the pegasus would have woken up anyway - but just smiled. She had helped Dash this evening, well and truly helped her. That was what friends were for.

It might get a little rocky along the way, Dash, but I’ll always be here for you.

Then Twilight magicked out the light and went to sleep.

There came a knock at the door, and the two looked up in surprise. They sat there, slow to understand what the knock meant due to their fatigue. The knocking came again, more insistent, and Twilight yawned and walked slowly over to the door. The newspaper rested beneath the mail slot, and Twilight levitated it over to the table. “That’s odd. I don’t normally get visitors this early.”

Rainbow Dash took the opportunity to stagger the remaining distance over to the table they had eaten on and unroll the newspaper. The day’s headlines would help her calm down after-

SEARCH FOR YOUNG FILLY SUCCESSFUL, FATHER THANKS GUARDS

Dash flung the front section of the newspaper to the other side of the table. The day’s sports headlines would help her calm down.

Twilight, meanwhile, had opened the door, and was agape at what she saw.

Mr. Nimbus sat on the welcome mat outside the door, weatherbeaten and world-weary. His coat and mane had been darkened to an off-black and a deep purple by the amount of water in them, and he was shivering slightly from the morning’s chill. His wings were tucked at his sides somewhat properly, but his mane and tail were both quite wet. His saddlebags, presumably weatherproofed, looked full and were buckled securely shut. He seemed tired and out of breath, and as Twilight stood staring at him, a single drop of water fell from his mane to the ground.

He panted slightly and looked up at Twilight from where he sat. “Hello, Ms. Sparkle. Do you know where I could find Rainbow Dash?”

Twilight was speechless at his appearance, and nodded mutely. She moved aside and pointed at the table where her friend sat reading the newspaper. Nimbus looked past her, saw Rainbow Dash, and nodded at Twilight, stepping inside the door. Dash looked up at the clop of his hooves on the wooden floor.

“Who is it, Twi-” she started to ask before she was rendered speechless at Nimbus’s bedraggled appearance, much the same as Twilight, though Dash regained her composure much more quickly. “Oh, Nimbus. Hi,” she said flatly, unsure what to make of the sight in front of her.

The darker pegasus closed his eyes and nodded to her. “I can understand why you would feel as you do about me. You’ve every right.”

Dash turned back to her newspaper. Nimbus kept talking. “I have a few things I would like to say to you, though they depend on how you react to the first of them.” He looked at her for a moment, and Dash flicked her gaze up to meet his. “Will you hear me?”

Dash was still for a moment before folding the newspaper square and laying it to one side. She hunched forward a bit, elbows resting on the table, and nodded. Twilight, who had meanwhile managed to recover her sensibilities, shut the door.

“I’ll get you a towel,” she said, moving a few steps towards the stairs and her washroom. She closed her eyes in concentration, and a magenta-enveloped towel floated down the stairs a few moments later. Twilight trotted back to the table and sat down, guiding the towel to her winged guest.

“Thank you,” said Nimbus, taking the towel and drying himself off enough so that he wasn’t dripping on the carpet. He placed his saddlebags against a leg of the table, sat down, and regarded Dash.

“I am sorry,” he began. He paused, expecting Dash to say something, but she remained silent. He continued after a moment. “What I said to you, what I did, what I insinuated was . . .” he paused again, searching for words. “Was wrong, in the fullest sense of the word. In the month prior to the . . . accident, you had been nothing but supportive to Scootaloo, and I was a fool to think you would do anything to put her in danger.”

He glanced at Twilight, then seemed to stare ahead at nothing in particular. “I do not think my actions were not completely without reason, but I should have acted more accordingly. My words about your competence, your lifestyle, your-” the word caught in his mouth. “Your sexuality were slanderous and irrelevant, and they were the products of a sleep-deprived father who wanted somepony to blame. That want was also the reason I filed the complaint against you, which in hindsight appears nothing short of mad.”

He looked back over at Dash. “I am sorry. Can you forgive me?”

Dash was silent for a while, staring evenly at Nimbus, who neither tried to stare Dash down nor avert his eyes. The two of them remained as they were for more than a minute, simply looking at one another and sharing more emotions than a conversation could. Twilight was left to look anxiously on, glancing between the two and the clock on a nearby wall.

Eventually, Dash moved. It was a small movement, just a shifting in her seat, but it was enough to break the heavy silence that had fallen over the room.

“I don’t know if I can completely forgive you right now, but I can try.”

“Then . . .”

“Apology accepted,” said Dash. Nimbus relaxed visibly and let out a breath.

“One thing, though,” Dash said without missing a beat. Nimbus tensed imperceptibly and looked at her. “This is a pretty sudden change since the last time I saw you. What made you change your mind?”

Nimbus inhaled and exhaled deeply, shifting his eyes down to the table in front of him. He closed his eyes and was quiet for a long time. Rainbow Dash and Twilight traded a glance, the latter looking concerned. At great length, Twilight spoke.

“Uh, Mr. Nimbus?” she asked.

He opened his eyes and looked at Twilight. “Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten. It’s just that this is a rather long story, and I want to make sure I get the details right. I think I’ve gotten all of them now.” He put his right foreleg on his left shoulder and almost managed to suppress a shiver. “Before I start, though, could I beg a cup of coffee from you? It wasn’t exactly warm last night, and I felt it more than I did when I was young.”

“Oh, sure,” Twilight replied, smiling a little. “I was just about to get some for Dash and myself when you came here.” She rose and walked over to the kitchen. “Back in a minute!” she called, disappearing through the doorway.

Dash watched her go, unconsciously leaning forward a bit. Nimbus also looked after Twilight, but with a slightly puzzled look on his face. “Can’t she just magic it out here?” he said to himself.

“She prefers not to handle boiling water unless she can see it,” said Dash, still looking at the kitchen doorway.

Nimbus looked over at Dash, somewhat surprised that she had spoken so amiably to him. “How do you know?”

“I asked her the same thing when she was making us cocoa a couple of weeks ago.”

Nimbus chuckled at himself and glancing back at the kitchen. “Right. Of course she would. I’m so used to dealing with the monotony of preparing it myself, I figured magic would just make everything easier.”

“Yeah, she does,” said Dash before catching herself. “I mean, yeah, it does.” She cleared her throat.

Nimbus looked over at her, his expression unreadable. Dash felt his eyes on her and met them. “What?”

“Does she make cocoa for you two often?”

“Um, yeah. I guess. We hung out two or three times a week before the whole Electric Rainboom thing.”

“And you say she makes things easier?”

Dash narrowed her eyes. “What business is it of yours?” she asked.

Nimbus opened his mouth, closed it, and held up his hooves. “None, of course. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pried.” He looked down.

Twilight poked her head out of the doorway. “Nr. Nimbus, I’m so sorry!” she called. “I forgot to ask what you wanted in your coffee!”

He waved a hoof at her. “It’s just as well. Black - the stronger, the better.”

Twilight smiled back. “Okay, then! Just a moment!” Her head pulled back into the kitchen. The pegasi at the table could just make out the aroma of hot coffee drifting out towards them. After a moment, Twilight walked around the doorway, stabilizing the trio of dark green coffee mugs that she was levitating with her.

Twilight trotted back to the table and set down a mug in front of each pegasus before sitting next to Dash with her own. The three of them each took a small sip of the coffee, and Dash scooted over a bit to give Twilight more room.

Nimbus closed his eyes and sighed warmly. “Thank you for your hospitality, Twilight. This is excellent coffee.”

“Really,” said Twilight, “it was no trouble at all. It’s just instant coffee.”

“It’s helping me warm up, and for that, I thank you.”

“A-hem,” said Rainbow, rolling her eyes. They settled on Nimbus, who gave a sheepish smile in return.

“Right, right.” He sighed briefly. “Well, it happened last night, actually . . .”

It was cold. So stupidly cold.

Twenty, even ten years ago, it wouldn’t have made a difference. Tempest would have seen the weather as a challenge, an affront to his abilities to be overcome, and he would have overcome it, simple as that. At his current age, though he was still very much capable of dealing with it (he wasn’t that old, thank you very much), it was difficult to see the weather for anything else but what it was - weather. Part of a system, and beyond his reach to question or change.

It didn’t care about some stupid pegasus who was flying through a cold, heavy rain in the middle of the night. Why should it?

A particularly intense deluge of ice water droplets pelted against him, and Tempest was dragged back to the reality of his situation. He glanced out into the massive black void surrounding him, and could dimly make out lights in the distance, slightly off to his left and above. He corrected his course and flew onward, relieved to be in the final stretch of his journey.

He had tucked his daughter Scootaloo into bed and waited around in the dark of the living room for her to fall completely asleep, listening to the pitter-patter of rain on the roof. He needed to make sure that his movements wouldn’t wake her up - couldn’t have her missing sleep over him. Tempest certainly hadn’t loitered because he was nervous about his destination or what he would find there.

That’s what he told himself, anyway.

The lights began to look less blurry, and Tempest realized that they were now slightly below him, though still straight ahead. As he drew closer, the lights formed themselves into shapes of windows, regularly spaced on a cloudstuff building that stood four stories tall - massive by pegasus standards, especially for a structure with so much infrastructure and equipment inside of it.

Tempest swooped down onto the covered landing area outside the main entrance, and the sound of the rain switched from a dull roar to a pleasant pattering. The cloudstuff bricks bore the pattern of a large and somewhat faded red cross on them, though it was not easily visible in the dim light. Tempest took a moment to shake off the worst of the water and double-check that his saddlebags were still dry before walking forward into the hospital lobby.

The pegasus sitting at the main desk - white coat, light blue mane and tail - looked up from his paperwork at the sound of the door opening. At the sight of a large, dark-coated, and rather worse for wear stallion trudging into the room in the middle of the night, his pulse quickened a bit.

Tempest walked over to the desk and looked as pleasantly as he could at the clerk.

“Uh, sir,” the clerk said, clearing his throat before continuing. “I should tell you that visiting hours have been over for quite some time now . . .”

“Yes. What’s your point?” said Tempest, beginning to lose a bit of patience. He was in no mood to jump through bureaucratic hoops for a second time that day.

Silence.

“Well, um. It’s just, the thing is, visitors aren’t, um-”

“Are you honestly considering turning me away because of some arbitrary clock marking?” Tempest leaned forward, eyes hard and unforgiving. The clerk leaned back in his seat, startled. He moved his mouth but couldn’t speak. “Well? Out with it!”

“I, uh-”

“I have family here! You can’t just tell me to go fly back home, not in this weather!”

“Look, I didn’t-”

“You didn’t what? You didn’t mean to upset me? She could be seriously hurt, and you-”

“Sir?”

A voice from the left. Tempest realized he’d been yelling, and had propped his front hooves up on the reception area desk, leaning forward so much that he was practically headbutting the clerk across from him. The two pegasi turned to see a third pegasus who had a similar white and red colouration, though she was female. Her cutie mark was a red caduceus, Tempest saw, as she crossed the lobby from the side hall where she had been.

“Is everything all right here?” she asked, looking at the two of them.

Tempest deflated and returned to a normal stance. “Yeah, thanks. I, um . . .” he trailed off, looking down and away. “I guess I . . . got a bit worked up, is all. Sorry about that.” He mumbled an apology to the clerk before turning and walking down a hallway off the lobby’s right, head hanging low.

The female pegasus looked at her coworker. “What happened?”

The clerk shrugged defensively. “Well, first, he walks in out of that,” he pointed out the door at one of the worst thunderstorms Cloudsdale had seen in years, “like it’s no big deal and just moseys on over to the desk.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “And he just started yelling?”

The clerk held out his forelegs in exasperation. “Well, naturally, I’m a bit startled at seeing somepony just appear like that, so I tell him that visiting hours are over, and I’m about to tell him that there’s this form he can fill out, right, and he starts asking me what the big idea is, and he gets all aggressive. After that, you heard.”

The clerk’s superior nodded. “Right. This is your first graveyard shift, isn’t it?” The clerk nodded, and the female pegasus continued. “Yeah, he’s been here a lot before at this hour. Makes sense he’d be upset.”

“Is it safe to let him wander around on his own?” asked the desk clerk.

His companion stared down the hallway where Tempest had turned before answering. “He knows where he’s going. He might have been a bit loud, but he won’t do any harm.”

“You’re sure?”

“I recognize him. I know who he’s visiting.” She shook her head slightly. “He’s having a hard enough time of things without red tape getting in the way.”

Tempest, meanwhile, could not stop thinking about the clerk at the desk.

Gods, I was yelling at him. Really yelling. I’ve never done that before. I mean, sure, I’ve gotten angry, but that . . .

He shook his head, trying to compose himself. He was tired and running on very little sleep, which had been troubled. He had done things like this before, and slip-ups were to be expected.

Tempest glanced at a room number on the wall. He was about halfway to her room, which gave him another minute of walking. He could have run there, but it would not have changed anything. The pegasus sighed and looked down at the cloudstuff bricks beneath his hooves.

It was amazing, really, that Cloudsdale had managed to build a hospital this size. It was larger than the city’s few mansions, and had been a massive improvement over the previous institutions, upgrading the equipment and facilities by several orders of magnitude.

Knowing that she was in such good hooves had made the first few days bearable. If it had been any other hospital, Tempest likely would have spent every spare moment at the foot of the bed. Fortunately, he had been able to spend time with Scootaloo and make sure that she had been okay throughout the whole ordeal.

And look how that turned out. What a good father you are, making your daughter feel better freezing to death than with you.

Tempest winced at the thought, formed before he could stop it. His steps faltered. He almost broke down then and there, degenerating into a sobbing mess. Thoughts of his daughter shivering out at Sweet Apple Acres alone, scared, and helpless, filled his mind’s eye.

No, stop it! It was horrible what happened, and you should have been better than that, but what’s done is done! You won’t earn her forgiveness crying here, and it won’t fix anything that needs to be fixed.

This idea was brighter than the thoughtscape surrounding it. Tempest held on to it for dear life even as his legs betrayed him and he sunk to the floor.

After what felt like an eternity spent in the dark corners of his mind, Tempest pulled himself back to his feet and made his hooves start walking again. He would get to her room at the end of the hall. He had to.

Daring a glance up, Tempest found he was closer than expected. He ran the last few steps, not wanting to give his mind another chance to turn against him.

And just like that, he was in his wife’s room.

There was silence except for the beep of machines. She had barely been visible through the bandages and a veil of tubes and metal when first brought in. Since then, she had improved enough to render most of the systems unnecessary. There were now only cursory monitors attached non-intrusively: a pad in the crook of her elbow, or on her forehead.

Many of the bandages had been removed as well, allowing her orange coat and blue mane to reappear. She lay on her back and wore braces around her wings, unforgiving metal webs to make sure they healed properly. She was asleep, as she had been every time Tempest had come to see her. To his knowledge, she had yet to wake up.

“Ciela,” he whispered. He went to the side of her bed. Before he knew what was happening, he had clutched one of her forehooves between his own and bowed, as though in prayer, next to her.

It was too much. All of the emotions Tempest had suppressed, all of the nights spent sleeplessly flying from the hospital to Ponyville, all of the decisions and choices made, trying desperately to find some kind of right path in the mess surrounding him, all of them finally caught up with him. Tempest buried his face into the bed and cried, sobbing and weeping into the blankets.

The dark pegasus’s frame shook from the weight of his sorrow, and the area where he rested his head quickly becoming damp with mucus and tears. Tempest tried to form words, but they came out as twisted cries. He ultimately abandoned his rational thoughts and simply let out the emotions he had imprisoned.

Time passed. Eventually, realizing that he had no more tears to shed, Tempest came back to the world around him, aware of an ache in his immobile joints and a feeling of . . . not peace. Peace was too optimistic. Perhaps . . . catharsis? He felt as though his system had been flushed out - not enjoyably by any measure, but the end result was . . .

Tempest shook his head. He would introspect later. For now, he had limited time, and a lot to say. He rose unsteadily to his hooves, dragged over a chair from the edge of the room to face the bed and slumped into it, utterly tired. He stared into space, glancing occasionally at Ciela.

“Scootaloo was found, thankfully. She was out at the treehouse, living off of apples. I was so happy to see her, but she seemed . . .” he paused. “Distant? She was a lot calmer than usual. Quieter. I don’t know why she-” Tempest found himself interrupted by a strangled sob. “Why she left. I just don’t, I mean, how? Why? Why would she leave like that?”

Tempest’s head hung forward, brow furrowed. “I just can’t think why she would have left. She was out there for more than two days, you know. Freezing and starving half to death. I scoured every place in town, and so did the guards. The treehouse was one of the first places we checked, but she must have . . .” The pegasus shook his head. “Hidden. Hidden. From her father.”

He hunched forward, elbows on knees. Tempest looked at the floor beneath him, not seeing it. “And then when she finally does turn up, do you know how I react? I don’t welcome her with a hug and soft words. I . . . I’m so angry at her. I’m so angry that she would do something that stupid.” He looked back at Ciela, haunted. “Because she’s beautiful, you know? She’s so beautiful and I love her so much and that something I did would make her not trust me, I . . . I can’t . . .”

He paused, staring at her unmoving form. His lover in rosier times, his friend in darker ones. She had never responded to his words from her sleep. Not volume nor poetry nor humour had changed that.

Can she-

Of course she can don’t be ridiculous.

“I wasn’t angry at her, though. I realize that now.” He took a deep breath. “I was angry at Rainbow Dash. At what she’d done, and how ignorant she was about you. You know she doesn’t know,” he paused, looking at the machines around Ciela, “about all this? Hospitalizes you and she’s just completely oblivious to it.” Tempest shook his head in disbelief.

“I found the two of them in the treehouse, as a last-ditch search effort, and . . . and she . . .” Tempest’s eyes were crushed shut, but unable to stop the tears. “And she looked so much like you, with Scootaloo under her wing like that. And I . . . I was so . . .” he sighed shakily. “I don’t even know what I am anymore. I was aimless at the beginning. Furious, but with no outlet. Who was she to hurt you, to take my daughter away from me? To throw us into this whole mess?”

Silence. Tempest had never spoken so much to her in his previous visits. The utter lack of replies was beginning to remind him why.

“I was angry at myself. For choosing her, for letting her get so close to Scootaloo and give her the damned stupid idea of trying to wrangle lightning. At her age, can you believe it?” He shook his head. “Of course, when I sat down and thought about it, it made a certain kind of sense. Rainbow Dash was probably trying things like that when she was Scootaloo’s age. Obviously, she survived enough of them, so I guess her perceptions of it would be different.” Tempest chuckled despite himself. “I was always running the endurance courses, pure flying stuff. What I read about weather in the textbooks scared me away from it, or at least trying to control it.”

Tempest stood up and walked over to the bed. Absently, he glanced at what few machines remained and found that the readings were completely and wholly average across the board before turning his eyes down to Ciela.

He scratched his neck, unsure of what to say next. Eventually:

“There’s been another development.” Tempest paused. “A guard brought to my attention a . . . loophole in the bureaucracy.” He paused again. “As it stands, Scootaloo won’t be able to take her entrance exam in time. But this new legal finesse . . .” he trailed off, paused again. “It would let her. In short, she’s allowed to pick her teacher for getting back into the teaching schedule. You can probably guess who she wants.”

Tempest lowered his head. He was quiet for a long time.

“And I want to. I want to let her, forgive her, tell her that I love her and that I’m sorry for all the idiot things I did,” he swallowed, his visage not quite as stoic as he would have liked. “But there’s this hard little ball of fear, and it’s pressing against my mind and my heart feels like it’s going to rip itself in two.” He looked at Ciela.

“What if I’m wrong?”

“What if I’m wrong,” he repeated, “and it happens again? Or something even worse? What if Scootaloo . . . she . . .” Tempest’s throat closed up. He couldn’t say it aloud. “And I know that if that happens, or if anything like that happens, I will never be able to forgive myself, and neither will Rainbow Dash.” He looked over at Ciela’s unmoving eyelids, her emotionless face. Tempest could feel the tears streaming down his face, but knew it would be futile to wipe them away.

Moving instinctually, he climbed onto the bed next to Ciela and lay next to her, managing the tight fit between her and the bed railings. The better part of two weeks without her embrace, her warmth next to him, had been a painful eternity. He needed to know she was there, that this whole nightmare wasn’t simply that. He wrapped his forelegs around her, the left around her middle and the right between her and the bed. Tempest buried his face in her shoulder.

“I’m so scared, and I don’t know what to do,” he sniffled, “I just don’t know what to do.” The tears had broken through again in earnest. Tempest quietly sobbed into his wife’s shoulder, powerless to resist.

And then she moved.

Twilight and Rainbow Dash sat, speechless, staring at Nimbus while he calmly took a sip of his coffee. He placed the mug back on the table and looked at them. Upon seeing their looks, his eyebrows rose.

“Um, yes?” he asked.

“AND?!” yelled Rainbow Dash, leaning forward and planting her hooves on the table.

“The doctors expect her to make a full recovery,” said Nimbus in the tone of voice one would use to talk about the weather.

Dash sputtered, livid. “What, that’s it?”

Nimbus regarded his coffee. “She did say one thing.”

Silence.

“What did-” Rainbow Dash began at significant volume before Twilight pointedly put a hoof on her chest. Dash whipped around to look at her.

“Inside voice, Dash.”

The pegasus’s cheeks erupted with scarlet. She inhaled and exhaled fully before facing Nimbus again.

“What did she say?” Dash asked, carefully enunciating every word in a perfectly normal tone. She glowered back at Twilight. Twilight smiled cheekily in return.

Nimbus was still staring at his mug. The black within drew his thoughts to the hospital bed, and the absolute hopelessness he had felt. How hearing Ciela’s voice after so long without it was akin to akin to a deaf man hearing a symphony preceded by a lifetime of silence.

“You and I both know nothing like that will happen. You’re just being overprotective. As usual,” she added, giggling.

Gods, she had giggled. She had smiled.

Nimbus looked up at the two ponies sharing the table with him. “She felt,” he said, “that I should forgive you.”

Rainbow Dash and Twilight looked at him, silently hopeful. Nimbus inhaled and exhaled deliberately.

“I agree with her.” The words hung in the empty air of the library for a minute before either Twilight or Rainbow Dash processed them.

“Then,” said Twilight hesitantly, “then you . . . that is, you two . . .”

“I want Rainbow Dash to continue teaching Scootaloo,” Nimbus said with a small smile.

Twilight gasped with glee. “Ohmygoshthat’swonderfultoheardidyouhearthatDashyoucangobacktoteachingScootalooandhelpingherovercomeobstaclesinlifeand-”

“Look, that’s great and everything,” said Dash, looking evenly between Twilight and Nimbus, “and I hate to be a killjoy here, but there’s still the complaint you filed against me. That’ll take months to be removed from the records, and I won’t be able to do a thing for Scootaloo until it is.”

“Actually,” Nimbus said, “there is a loophole.”

Dash threw a puzzled look at Twilight. Twilight shrugged. “Go on,” said Rainbow.

“Well, you see, as part of the complaint I filed, Scootaloo and I are allowed to pick her new teacher from a list of qualified individuals in and around Ponyville.” Nimbus produced several scrolls from his saddlebags. They were slightly damp, but had survived his odyssey intact. “This is the list.” He unfurled the first scroll on the table top.

Dash and Twilight peered forward and looked it over. “Rainbow Dash is on this list,” said Twilight, a bit puzzled. “How can that be when you filed the complaint?”

Nimbus chuckled. “That’s the beauty of it,” he said, producing another scroll. “Here’s the complaint form relating to Rainbow Dash’s identity. Notice any differences?”

Dash put a hoof to her chin and thoughtfully compared the two pages. The difference struck her immediately. “Wait, my titles are different on these.”

“Precisely!” said Nimbus, growing more animated. “I filed the complaint against Rainbow Dash, General Weather Manager of Ponyville. But-”

“Rainbow Dash,” interrupted Twilight, “Fastest Filly Flyer in Equestria, Heroine of Her Majesty Celestia, is a perfectly suitable role model for Scootaloo! Oh, I’ve only read about things like this in mystery novels! This is so cool!”

“Well,” said Dash flatly, “I’m glad one of us understands this. How precisely am I two people now?”

“It’s actually quite simple,” Twilight said, eyes wide with scholarly excitement. “In a society with Equestrian naming traditions, such as Equestria, of course, titles - even small and utterly insignificant ones - are often given to ponies to distinguish them from one another. Names tend to be recycled throughout history, and even within the same generation, so it helps to be able to tell one similarly named pony from another. Make sense?” the unicorn asked.

“I guess so,” Dash said hesitantly before shrugging. “I might not understand the specifics, but I’ll take your words for it.” She blinked suddenly, remembering something. “Wait, when is the entrance exam, anyway? It’s getting kinda close to the start of the school year.” She looked at Nimbus.

Nimbus told her, and Dash did some quick mental math. After a stunned moment, a voice echoed out from Ponyville library in the quiet of early morning.

“SIX DAYS?!”

Chapter 5

“Thank you for letting me have a look around Sweet Apple Acres, Applejack.”

“It’s the least Ah c’n do, Mr. Nimbus. We’re all worried ‘bout Scootaloo.”

“I realize the Guardsmen already checked here, but . . . I suppose I just need to see it for myself.”

“Hey now, don’t go talkin’ ‘bout it like she’s gone or sumthin’ – Ah’m sure we’ll find some clue to where Scootaloo is. Th’ Guards’re trained an’ all, but they ain’t got a parent’s way a’ thinkin’ ‘bout things.”

“. . . Yes, perhaps you are correct. Which way is the treehouse?”

“Thataway. ‘S a fair walk.”

Rainbow Dash drifted lazily upwards from the realms of sleep to the brightness of the waking world. She hadn’t yet opened her eyes, but she could still perceive a few things – the soft warmth of sunlight on her face, the slightest hint of a breeze flowing in through the treehouse windows that carried the vague sweetness of apples. There was a steady pattern of breathing coming from just beside her, accompanied by a warm form pressed against hers.

Dash lifted her eyelids halfway, taking in the world visually. From where her head lay on the treehouse’s rug, she saw a bright golden rectangle that could only be a window. Celestia’s sun beamed through the glass, gilding it with light and refracting yellow brilliance onto the interior of the treehouse. The wood of the walls and ceiling, already a dull orange, were brightened to a pleasant ochre.

The blue pegasus’s eyes wandered, looking at the details of the one-room structure – a table off to one side over there, a shelf along one of the walls here, the small black circles of nail heads in the floorboards wherever she looked.

An orange and purple shape beneath her wing.

Scootaloo was pressed into Dash’s side, with blue feathers covering her from neck to flank. Her breathing was still the slow, steady pulse of sleep, so Dash took care to be subdued in her movements as she lifted her head and stretched out her legs along the floor.

I can’t even remember the last time I slept that well, she thought as her brain gradually sped up. Her eyes drifted back down to the diminutive figure beside her, and Dash couldn’t help but smile at how peaceful Scootaloo looked.
Looking at her now, you’d never guess what she’s been through.
The smaller pegasus had curled Dash’s wing around her like a blanket, which Dash just then realized. Mentally bracing herself for the pain to start, she was surprised to feel none. Surprise was replaced by confusion – then, cautious hope. Looking over to her other side, Dash considered her folded wing. It didn’t seem any different, but it no longer carried a dull ache with it as it had in previous days. She tentatively extended the limb, ready to quiet a pained intake of breath if necessary.

Her preparation proved unneeded, as her wing reached its full extension without fault. Dash sighed softly as she worked muscle groups neglected for a week. The simple, base pleasure of stretching her wing out was immense, and Dash felt her eyes close in bliss as she contracted the muscles controlling her wing. She hadn’t realized how much she had missed the act until now. Somewhere at the back of her mind was a nagging thought about how odd it was that she had recovered that quickly, but Dash couldn’t bring herself to focus on it.

Eventually, the tension in Dash’s wing completely melted away and she looked back at Scootaloo – still asleep. It seemed that being kept at full extension for the night had alleviated whatever tension Dash’s other wing might have had. That was fine with Dash; Scootaloo needed her sleep after what she’d been through.
I’ll stay like this maybe another half hour or something. Then I’ll wake her up, we’ll have some apples and head back into town.
Dash was just lowering her head back to the rug (her makeshift pillow) when she heard voices drifting in through the treehouse’s front doorway.

“And this is the Crusader treehouse?”

“Yep. Th’ three of ‘em fixed it up real nice.”

“This is their hoofwork? I must say, I’m impressed.”

“Ah know what y’ mean – it was a sorry sight when they first got to it.”

Dash could recognize Applejack’s voice easily, but the other one escaped her. It was familiar, sure, but she couldn’t put a name or a face to it. Dash lifted her head back up and craned her neck, trying to see who was talking. She caught a glimpse of a dark grey coat and a purple mane, which was enough to jog her memory. Her mind filled in the missing eye colour and cutie mark (dark amber and an envelope respectively), and the image was complete.
Mr. Nimbus? What’s he doing here?
Before she could think about that query very much at all, there came the clunk-clunk of hooves on the wooden ramp leading up to the treehouse’s entryway. Dash had fully woken up now, and she realized that Mr. Nimbus might not appreciate seeing his daughter side-to-side with her. The words of the Court missive flashed through Dash’s mind, and she winced with the memory. Pushing it aside as best she could, Dash gathered her hooves under herself and made to stand up. Before she could, a dark grey head topped by a purple mane appeared at the entrance of the treehouse.

Mr. Nimbus walked forward a few cautious steps, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the lighting inside. Dash was frozen in place, suddenly and acutely aware of how awkward it looked for her to be lying next to Scootaloo with her wing wrapped around the younger pegasus. Nothing untoward had happened the previous night, of course, but even Dash had to admit that would seem difficult to believe in her current position.

Mr. Nimbus suddenly stopped walking – indeed, he had stopped all motion short of breathing. Silence stretched out for what seemed to be an eternity as the two pegasi stared at each other, Dash doing so with an expression of complete neutrality and Mr. Nimbus with an unreadable face. It quickly turned readable, however, as his brows angled inward in anger and his breathing became more forced. His chest felt tight with stress as a hot flush of adrenaline coursed through his system. He was having difficulty believing the sight before his eyes was actually real and not some fabrication of his stressed mind.

But, no. It was her. Perhaps it was some parental instinct, or perhaps he was finally registering the sensations his body was receiving. It hardly mattered – what did matter was that it was her, his daughter, his little Scootaloo safe and sound after being missing for more than thirty-six hours.

Something was off, though. Scootaloo (his dear Scootaloo) was orange of coat, not blue. Mr. Nimbus saw that her usual orange coat was covered by a blue wing that obscured her real colours. The grey pegasus’s eyes drifted slightly upward, and met wine-red ones – the owners of the treacherous feathers.

Rainbow Dash cleared her throat awkwardly.

“Ah, um, hi Mr. Nimbus,” she said, standing up and disentangling herself from Scootaloo. He said nothing in response, only looking at Dash with hard eyes. Scootaloo, however, had been jostled awake by the motion and now yawned her way out of sleep. She stretched lazily, rolling over onto her side. When she hit Dash’s hooves instead of her side, Scootaloo opened her eyes and blinked slowly.

“Thanks for that, Rainbow Dash. The sleep really-” her voice cut off as she noticed the room’s third occupant, who continued to glare at Dash. “Dad . . .”

“Scootaloo.”

The orange pegasus was silenced with a single word, flinching slightly at her name. Mr. Nimbus was slightly taller than the average pegasus, and years of flying an unforgiving mail route in every kind of weather imaginable had left him with a layer of solid, working man muscle. His size and power made it all the more intimidating to hear him speaking in such a low, calm voice, as though nothing at all were amiss.

“Applejack is outside at the bottom of the ramp. Please go and wait with her. I have some things I need to discuss with Miss Dash.”

Dash winced at the honorific, but said nothing. She had wanted to talk to Scootaloo’s father as well, and she didn’t necessarily want the filly to be around for it. Scootaloo rolled onto her hooves, standing up facing her father.

“Look, Dad, I’m sorry about-”

“Scootaloo, it’s okay,” interrupted Dash, putting a hoof on Scootaloo’s shoulder. Mr. Nimbus inhaled and exhaled deeply when she did, controlling himself with a significant amount of effort. “Your dad and I have some stuff we need to talk about, and it’d be best if we got it out of the way.”

“But, but,” Scootaloo stuttered as she turned to face Dash.

“It’s okay. I know what I’m doing.”

Scootaloo tried to speak once more, but could not find the words. Her face fell into an emotionless mask, and she trudged out of the treehouse and down the ramp. Applejack’s voice drifted in from outside, astonished at Scootaloo’s appearance. The two pegasi were now alone in the treehouse. They stood facing each other, legs out slightly for balance in a slight gesture of mutual aggression. Silence reigned for a long moment, interrupted only by Applejack’s questions and Scootaloo’s mumbles from the bottom of the treehouse ramp.

Dash spoke first.

Scootaloo walked slowly down the wooden plank and onto the ground, her head tilted forward to stare at the dirt. She stopped and plopped backwards onto her haunches when an orange shape entered the right side of her peripheral vision. Applejack had been sitting respectfully on the grass outside, waiting for Mr. Nimbus to return. To pass the time, she had been chewing a sprig of wheat and trying unsuccessfully not to think about what she would do if Apple Bloom were the filly missing.

The earth pony was brought back to the material world by a scuffing sound slightly behind her and to her left. She turned, smiling sympathetically.

“Find anythin’, Mr. Nim-” was all Applejack managed to say before she nearly choked on her wheat sprig. After a couple of hacks, she spit it out and rubbed her eyes in disbelief.

“Scootaloo?” she managed to stutter. “I-izzat really you?”

“Yeah,” Scootaloo replied weakly. Applejack was, at the moment, too much in shock to notice Scootaloo’s posture or the tone of her voice.

“Blazes, girl! Why on earth’re y’ here?” she asked, managing to regain control of herself. Scootaloo repeated her part in the conversation with Rainbow Dash the previous night, answering Applejack’s questions when she was interrupted by them. They conversed in this way for a couple of minutes. Scootaloo’s demeanour didn’t improve, though Applejack tried to be as positive as possible when she did speak. When Scootaloo had finished talking, Applejack sat for a moment and collected her thoughts before responding.

“So lessee if I got this straight: y’ felt guilty ‘bout what happened t’ Rainbow and y’ felt worried about getting’ a new teacher, so y’ wanted somepony t’ talk to.”

“Yeah.”

“But y’ felt the Crusaders wouldn’t wanna talk t’ y’ and yer father filed the complaint in th’ first place, so y’ couldn’t talk t’ him, either.”

“Yeah.”

“So y’ hid out at th’ treehouse until yer father got worried an’ sent some guardsmen out lookin’ for y’, who y’ hid from. Then Dash found y’ last night, an’ here we are.”

“Yeah.”

At that moment, there came a piercing cry from the treehouse. Applejack immediately stood up and started cantering towards the base of the ramp. Scootaloo shot past her, a blur of orange against orange. As Scootaloo pounded up the ramp and into the treehouse proper, she saw the cause of the noise.

Rainbow Dash lay on her stomach, legs sprawled out before and behind her. She writhed without purpose on the floor, and her face was contorted into a mask of agony. Her wings were fully spread and stuck up almost vertically from their bases on her back, and quivered slightly whenever she moved. Dash was moaning in pain, fruitlessly trying to say something past the tears in her eyes.

“Dad, what . . . what . . .” Scootaloo searched for words, but they failed her. Her father stood impassively over Dash, his own wings stretched to their own impressive span. Applejack had meanwhile thundered up the ramp herself and was now crouched down by Dash, trying to talk to her.

“Rainbow, what happened? Say somethin’, please!”

“. . . wings . . . open . . . too far . . .” she clutched at Applejack, begging. “oh gods please applejack it hurts so much help please”

“Dad, do something!” exclaimed Scootaloo. “She’s in pain!” Her father only snorted bitterly and turned to leave.

“I can see that. Come along, Scootaloo, we’re leaving.” There was no trace of emotion in his voice. Scootaloo looked up at her father, unable to believe her ears.

“But, dad! She, she-”

“She is getting what she deserves. We are leaving.”

There was a quiet, still moment wherein Scootaloo processed and analyzed what she was hearing. Applejack, her father, Dash – they all seemed muffled. The quietness and stillness persisted, as Scootaloo found herself darting forward. Then she was pressing on Dash’s sides, moving the wings ever so slightly this way, so as not to aggravate them further. A little pressure here, a subtle twist there, and the wing rolled back into place with the soft grinding of bone. Scootaloo did it again for the other side, dimly aware of her father’s angry voice behind her. When she had finished, time resumed its normal pace and the sound of voices faded in.

Scootaloo felt herself being pulled backwards, heard her father say thank you for your time or something to Applejack. Then, she was walking away from the Crusader treehouse with her father and he was talking, words gradually filtering in.

“I swear, sometimes I do not know what to do with you. I just hope you come back to your senses by the time your new instructor gets here.”

“Hells’ bells, Rainbow! What else goin’ on on mah farm that Ah don’t know about?” said Applejack, quite fed up with being two steps behind everypony around her.

“Look, Applejack . . .” Dash managed to croak, trying to move as little as possible. Her wings had returned to their normal folded position, but sang red with pain.

“First, Scootaloo hides out at th’ Crusader treehouse ‘cuz apparently she feels she can’ talk t’ th’ Crusaders about what she’s goin’ through. Then, Ah let Mr. Nimbus poke aroun’ the farm f’r some peace ‘a mind after the Guards a’ been through here, but Scootaloo’s apparently here now, an’-”

“Applejack, would you just calm down?” Dash asked, holding up a hoof in surrender. “I’ll explain what happened, okay?”

Dash explained to the best of her ability the events of the past, interjected with the laborious process of struggling to her hooves. By the time she had explained everything properly, she and Applejack were walking back in the direction of the main farmhouse.

“. . . and here I am talking with you,” Dash finished. “As to why my wings got all messed up? Well, from what I understand, it’s an old pegasus reflex – make yourself seem bigger, more intimidating.”

There was a slight pause.

“We didn’t exactly have the friendliest of conversations.”

Applejack was silent for a solid twenty seconds before saying anything.

“Rainbow, Ah . . . Ah don’t even know what t’ say . . .” she began.

“Then don’t say anything. I’ve probably already thought through any conversation we might have. Honestly,” Dash said, casting a tired look over at her companion, “I’m more angry than anything. I mean, my wings were nearly healed. Now, I can barely move them and this time I don’t have any hospital-grade painkillers in my system.”

Applejack contemplated some things silently for a moment. Then:

“Painkillers?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah. The hospital staff gave me some when I checked out yesterday to help me adapt to life in the real world and stuff.” She paused. “Gods, was it just yesterday I checked out? It feels like it’s been two and a half months.”

“Y’know, Ah might be able t’ help with that,” Applejack said with an even look at Dash. Dash returned with a look of surprise.

“It . . . really? How?”

“Well, as y’ may a’ noticed,” Applejack explained, gesturing grandly with a foreleg, “Sweet Apple Acres ain’t what y’ would call close t’ Ponyville General.”

“Right.”

“So if ever there’s an injury or somethin’ like that, we either gotta fix it ourselves, ‘r make it work ‘till the docs get here.”

“So you have painkillers just lying around,” Dash said flatly.

“Not quite. Granny Smith was a herbalist in her time, and by ‘stension the farm’s doctor. If somepony needed fixin’, it’d be her that did it. If she couldn’t, she’d ease the pain ‘till the doctors from town came a-runnin’ on in.”

“Granny Smith? Really?”

“Oh yeah! She still has this big ol’ pantry full ‘a herbs an’ poultices an’ stuff – I reckon we could spare a few for a friend.”

Rainbow Dash’s face lit up a tad, and she seemed a bit less tired.

“Just like that? I . . . thanks, Applejack.”

“Thank me when yer wings start feelin’ better,” said Applejack with a jovial shove of Dash’s shoulder. Dash inhaled sharply and flinched away from the impact. Applejack made to apologize, but Dash cut her off with a grin.

“Where’s that pantry of Granny Smith’s?”

Chapter 9

No, it's not an actual update.

Read this blog post if you haven't already. It'll explain things.

URL in case the link embedding doesn't work.
http://www.fimfiction.net/blog/151355/whoa-hey-look-at-the-time